»Mt^«>M| 


iifll! 


i"'J 


,■^3 


'J^.S.- 


,('.1 


4j5 


•V 


<tl: 


ujmimuntfTrtn»m>tn?iiinnrfmfiTiTrnTirr 


Trrt  inrmrnrrmraratrK 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


Prof,  Joseph  A.  Brandt 


£7^'%»«- 


"^ 


THE    PORTREEVE 


'JW^' 


THE    PORTREEVE 


BY 


EDEN    PHILLPOTTS 

AUTHOR  OF   "THE  SECRET  WOMAN,"    "THE  AMERICAN 
PRISONER,"    "CHILDREN  OF  THE  MIST,"    ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

1906 

^11  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1906, 

By  the  macmillan  company. 


Set  up  and  clectrotyped.    Published  January,  1906. 


Norwood  Prist 

J.  S.  Gushing  ©"  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood^  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


PR 

5111 

1906 


CONTENTS 


BOOK 

I 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I. 

A  Happy  Man    .          .         ,         ,         , 

3 

II. 

The  Cenotaphs    . 

10 

III. 

A  Supper  Party    . 

21 

IV. 

The  Island  of  Rocks 

32 

V. 

Primrose  Horn     . 

40 

VI. 

Lints  Tor  .          , 

•    53 

VII. 

The  Drift   . 

66 

VIII. 

Advice 

•       79 

IX. 

Ask  Pierce  .          .          , 

.       87 

X. 

The  Comforter     . 

•       97 

XI. 

Two  Letters 

.     107 

XII. 

Abel's  Courage  is  Revived 

.     114 

XIII. 

The  Death  of  *  Brown  Boy  ' 

.     123 

XIV. 

Yes  Tor 

.     134 

XV. 

The  Walk  from  Church 

.     H3 

BOOK   II 

I. 

Combe  ClifFs        .          .          .         •         .         .          .157 

II. 

Luck  for  Slanning 

.     167 

III. 

The  Dinner  Hour 

177 

IV. 

A  Good  Day's  Work 

.     185 

V. 

The  Meeting  of  Three 

.     196 

VI. 

The  Christening  Party 

■     203 

VII. 

A  Message 

.     21 1 

VIII. 

One  Traveller  Returns 

V 

0 

72 

.     218 

VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


IX.  Light  on  a  Problem     .  .  . 

X.  Black  Tor  Copse         .  .  . 

XI.  Breaking  the  News 

XII.  ♦  Joy  go  with  you,  and  twopence  ' 


PAGE 
226 

236 

249 

261 


BOOK   . 

[II 

I. 

The  Cut  Direct 

II. 

A  Larger  Life    . 

III. 

The  Blue  Rosette 

IV. 

The  Meeting     . 

V. 

Patriotism 

VI. 

Good  and  Bad  . 

VII. 

A  Sale  of  Stock 

VIII. 

Breaking  the  News 

IX. 

Orlando  is  Disloyal 

X. 

At  '  Slanning's' 

XL 

The  Silent  Places 

XII. 

Flight  of  Time  . 

XIII. 

Back  to  Bridgetstowe 

XIV. 

Clouds 

XV. 

Dicky  visits  Orlando 

XVI. 

The  Election 

XVII. 

« In  at  the  Death  ' 

<VIII. 

A  Good  Year's  Work 

269 

280 
288 
298 

309 
321 

333 

341 

351 
361 

373 
383 
397 

405 

416 
429 

439 
449 


Book  I 


THE    PORTREEVE 

CHAPTER   I 

A    HAPPY    MAN 

DEVON  Spread  her  glory  to  the  sun,  and,  in 
vesture  of  high  summer,  shone  Hke  an  opal  on 
earth's  buxom  breast.  The  time  was  between 
the  harvests.  Pale  meadows,  whence  the  hay  had  van- 
ished, spread  for  many  a  mile  over  hill  and  valley  ; 
ricks  rose  silvery  and  sweet  of  savour  in  the  hot  hazes  ; 
corn  was  kerning,  and  each  glowing  hour  lessened  the 
green  of  it  and  added  to  the  gold.  Beneath  Dart- 
moor's northern  wing,  removed  from  the  central  wil- 
derness by  some  miles  of  forest,  fallow  and  fertile  land, 
a  little  church-town  sunned  itself  and  basked  under 
the  rare  weather.  Only  in  corners  unseen  sorrow 
lurked  and  suffering  hid  its  head  ;  content  was  at  doors 
and  windows  ;  the  hollow  smiled  and  chimed  with  the 
music  of  children.  Indeed,  maternity  seemed  the  first 
business  of  this  nest.  Here  ripe  matrons  were  suck- 
ling the  race  to  come,  and  many  a  young  wife  budded 
to  motherhood.  They  congregated  where  a  rivulet, 
laden  with  sweet  water  from  the  Moor,  babbled  at 
their  cottage  doors,  brought  down  the  first  dawn-light 
to  earth,  sparkled  at  noon,  and  reflected  the  evening 
star.  A  bridge  spanned  the  water,  and  beside  it  sank 
steps  to  stream-side.  Here  the  folk,  resting  red 
pitchers,  held  their  talk  of  home  politics  and  good  and 

3 


4  THE    PORTREEVE 

evil  fortune  ;  here  joy  leapt  In  laughter  along  ;  and  here 
tears  sometimes  fell  unseen  and  flowed  away  to  the  sea. 

At  this  morning  hour,  women  moved  among  the 
cottages  and  stood  In  the  shade  of  trees.  The  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day  was  being  borne  upon  the  land, 
and  in  the  shop,  and  on  the  scaffold.  Men  were  shin- 
ing at  the  forge ;  men  were  panting  by  the  river. 
There  fleeces  fell  and  shorn  sheep  bleated  and  galloped 
snow-white  on  the  shorn  meadows.  Men  built  with 
brick  and  stone,  where  unlovely  dwellings  rose  raw 
about  the  confines  of  the  hamlet.  Beneath,  the  car- 
penter's plane  whistled  and  the  shavings  curled  sweet 
and  knee-deep  at  his  bench  ;  above,  the  mason's  trowel 
clinked  on  the  brick  and  hissed  Into  the  wet  mortar. 
The  daily  battle  waxed  under  the  sun's  fire ;  but  the 
camp  was  left  to  women  and  children.  Infants  and 
kittens  played  and  purred  about  the  hatches  of  the 
cottages  ;  ancient,  wintry  men,  bent  this  way  and  that 
by  the  storm  of  years,  crept  and  buzzed  together  by 
the  bridge ;  droned  of  the  old  time,  and  waited,  like 
autumn  flies,  for  the  frost  to  end  them. 

Small  gardens  spread  before  the  cots  of  Bridget- 
stowe,  and  its  roofs  were  of  weathered  slate.  The 
dwellings  extended  in  rows  slantwise,  and  woodstacks, 
barns  and  trees  broke  up  the  lines  of  them.  Iron-blue 
roads  dropped  into  the  village  from  north  and  west 
and  south.  In  the  central  spaces  extended  a  sort  of 
rialto,  or  resort,  before  the  door  of  the  "  Royal  Oak  " ; 
and  over  against  this  rallying-point,  separated  by  a  low 
wall  from  the  stir  and  tumult  of  existence,  there  lay  the 
sleeping-places  of  the  dead.  The  men  and  women 
of  Bridgetstowe  plunge  into  life's  very  heart  within 
twenty  yards  of  the  dust  that  bore  them.  They  make 
love  and  history  upon  the  confines  of  their  own  graves. 
The  churchyard  lies,  like  a  green  jewel,  In  shining  set- 
ting of  sun-baked  house-roofs ;   and  tower   and  trees 


A    HAPPY    MAN  5 

spring  together  therefrom.  But  their  dead  do  not 
dominate  those  who  dwell  here,  and  the  folk  take  no 
thought  for  these  camps  and  lodges  of  the  silent  peo- 
ple. Empty  pewters  and  loud  laughter  ring  at  the  inn 
door  on  one  side  of  the  boundaries ;  upon  the  other, 
church  bells  chime,  and  jackdaws  make  music.  There 
is  no  discord,  for  all  are  sounds  proper  to  Bridget- 
stowe's  life ;  and  not  one  disturbs  the  green  dormitory 
in  the  midst. 

Beside  the  road  that  enters  this  village  from  the 
neighbouring  market-town  of  Okehampton,  a  dark- 
browed  cottage  shall  still  be  seen.  Its  strip  of  garden 
on  this  summer  day  was  aflame  with  crimson  phloxes, 
and  along  with  them  strong  clumps  of  Michaelmas 
daisies  were  preparing  future  bloom.  Over  the  wicket 
gate  a  mountain  rowan  had  been  trained  upon  an  arch, 
like  a  wild  thing  tamed  and  taught  to  do  a  stupid 
trick.     Already  its  fruit  reddened  to  scarlet. 

Before  the  door  of  this  little  house  there  stood  a 
man.  No  dewy  grave  nor  dry  skeleton  threw  any 
shadow  on  his  life's  feast,  for  he  was,  at  once,  the 
serenest  and  loneliest  spirit  in  his  native  village.  But 
the  days  of  his  solitude  were  numbered,  and  for  that 
reason  joy  filled  him  until,  among  many  other  cheerful 
hearts,  his  was  the  gladdest.  Because,  where  happy 
mothers  moved  and  old  folks  sat  in  the  sun,  content- 
ment spread  unconsciously  and  the  fair  weather  and 
good  harvest  diffused  an  objective  and  general  spirit 
and  scent  of  hope ;  but  in  the  case  of  this  man  his 
ecstasy  was  personal :  he  had  reached  the  threshold  of 
his  fortune,  and  the  future  promised  nothing  but  pros- 
perity. He  was  successful ;  he  was  healthy  ;  a  woman 
he  dearly  loved  had  just  promised  to  marry  him  ;  and 
this  climax  accrued  from  his  own  energy,  resource  and 
good  sense. 

Dodd  Wolferstan  was  a  florid,  quick-eyed,  quick- 


6  THE    PORTREEVE 

tempered,  resolute  spirit  of  one-and-thirty.  His  straw- 
coloured  hair  sat  smooth  and  neat  to  his  head  ;  his 
small  moustache  which  in  no  way  concealed  a  pleasant 
mouth,  had  the  hue  of  pale  amber.  A  demeanour 
that  almost  deserved  to  be  called  distinguished  marked 
him.  A  fresh,  cleanly  and  manly  air  sat  upon  him. 
His  speech  was  brisk ;  the  glance  of  his  grey  eyes  was 
keen  without  boldness,  and  he  possessed  a  natural 
delicacy  of  mind  that  resulted  in  good  manners.  The 
son  of  peasants  and  orphaned  at  early  youth,  he  had 
risen  from  the  atmosphere  of  a  workhouse  to  his  pres- 
ent position.  Some  element  of  inherited  or  inherent 
talent  so  favoured  him,  that  his  equals  were  never 
jealous,  and  his  superiors  found  themselves  attracted 
by  his  just  conduct,  his  religious  conviction  and  his 
unfailing  courtesy.  The  mainspring  of  the  man  was 
ambition  ;  and  any  touch  of  genius  that  he  might  be 
said  to  possess,  appeared  in  the  tact  with  which  he 
kept  out  of  sight  a  trait  so  apt  to  be  unpleasant.  Only 
one  human  being  had  ever  heard  him  brag ;  and  she 
was  the  woman  who  meant  to  marry  him.  To  her  his 
high  resolves  seemed  reasonable.  Such  a  future  as  he 
planned  might  fairly  be  predicted  from  his  past  —  so 
Ilet  Yelland  thought.  She  believed  that  every  hair  of 
his  sleek  head  had  virtue  in  it,  and  marvelled  that  he 
set  his  aims  so  low,  not  that  he  pitched  them  so  high. 
Sometimes  he  chid  her  zeal  on  his  account,  yet  loved 
her  the  better  for  it. 

The  present  position  of  the  man  involved  an  Im- 
mense deal  of  hard  work,  for  he  combined  a  variety  of 
small  trades  and  crafts  In  his  person.  When  he  was 
twenty-three  he  had  been  the  best  thatcher  in  North 
Devon,  and,  at  twenty-five,  he  won  half  a  dozen  first 
prizes  for  ploughing.  From  these  successes  he  rose  to 
a  bailiff's  place  on  a  large  grazing  farm  and  learnt  from 
his   master,  one   Alexander    Horn,  as  much  as    that 


A    HAPPY    MAN  7 

skilled  cattle-breeder  could  teach  him.  At  Bowden 
farm  he  worked  for  five  years,  made  money  for  the 
owner,  and  saved  some  for  himself.  Then  he  took 
three  acres  of  ground  at  Bridgetstowe  and  became  a 
successful  market  gardener  on  a  small  scale.  A  lofty 
brick  wall,  facing  south,  and  some  fine  fruit  trees,  in 
pride  of  bearing,  had  served  to  win  him  local  fame  with 
pears  and  apples.  He  was  a  scientific  bee-keeper  and 
lectured  for  the  Association.  He  took  photographs, 
and  his  pictures  of  the  wilder  regions  of  the  Moor  won 
a  small  sale  among  visitors  during  summer  time  in  the 
border  towns.  He  was  Vicar's  Churchwarden  and  had 
tried  without  success  for  a  seat  on  the  parish  council. 
But  office  he  held,  and  to  him  belonged  the  dignity  of 
a  post  in  which  the  village  took  large  pride.  Wolfer- 
stan  was  Portreeve  of  Bridgetstowe  —  a  title  thought 
to  lend  lustre  to  the  hamlet,  albeit  the  real  duties 
proper  to  that  position  had  long  been  abstracted  and 
bestowed  elsewhere. 

In  Saxon  times  this  officer  was  reeve  of  market 
towns  and  steward  of  free  men.  He  stood  for  the 
community,  controlled  transactions  of  sale  or  barter, 
and  represented  power.  Not  the  King,  not  the  State, 
not  the  lord  of  the  borough  elected  him.  He  obtained 
his  authority  from  his  equals.  He  was  "  the  reeve  or 
steward  of  his  town's  rights  and  liberties  for  his  term 
of  office  on  behalf  of  his  fellow  citizens."  ^  The  sig- 
nificance of  this  functionary  and  his  old  powers  were 
gradually  reduced.  The  lords  of  boroughs  began  to 
influence  elections,  so  that  the  later  portreeves  sank  to 
mere  creatures  and  represented  other  interests  than 
those  of  the  free-holding  and  rate-paying  communities. 
To-day  the  free  men  levy  rates  no  more :  it  is  the 
people's  part,  and  machinery  of  guardians  and  vestries 

1  See  an  admirable  paper  by  Mr.  P.  F.  S.  Amery,  the  antiquary.  "Transaction* 
of  Devonshire  Association,"  1889. 


8  THE    PORTREEVE 

have  swept  the  portreeve  into  oblivion.  He  remains 
a  picturesque  but  futile  figure,  and  Dodd  Wolferstan's 
work  in  this  capacity  consisted  of  nominal  duties  for 
discharge  of  which  other  persons  were  really  responsi- 
ble. The  overseership  of  the  parish  commons,  how- 
ever, in  truth  devolved  upon  him,  and  since  that  labour 
put  him  on  horseback  and  took  him  for  many  a  gallop 
along  the  fringes  of  the  Moor,  he  delighted  in  it.  As 
a  local  man  he  enjoyed  Venville  rights  and  privileges, 
and  himself  pastured  at  profit  a  few  sheep  and  ponies 
upon  the  waste. 

He  was  worth  rather  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year,  and  knew  that  his  income  steadily  in- 
creased. Life  had  left  little  leisure  for  sentiment,  but 
at  this  moment  love  came  uppermost  with  him,  while 
his  master-passion  burnt  with  banked  fires  beneath. 
Ambition  to  achieve  ruled  his  days.  Not  seldom  he 
mingled  piety  and  aspiration  when  he  visited  the  church 
to  pray  and  to  regard  certain  cenotaphs  therein.  His 
parents  slept  without  and  he  had  set  up  a  memorial  to 
them  with  the  first  ten  pounds  that  he  saved;  but 
other  and  greater  Wolferstans  slumbered  in  the  vaults 
beneath  St.  Bridget's  fane.  Openly  to  claim  relation- 
ship at  present  had  been  foolish ;  though  his  soul 
asserted  it  in  secret ;  and  he  looked  forward  to  a  time 
when  this  pretension  should  be  recognised  and  estab- 
lished. 

To-day  Dodd  Wolferstan  made  holiday.  He  looked 
up  and  down  the  road,  slapped  his  neat  brown  gaiters 
with  a  cane,  and  adjusted  his  hard  hat  once  or  twice, 
for  it  was  new  and  pinched  his  head  a  trifle  above  the 
ears.  His  brown  tweed  suit  was  also  new,  and  he  wore 
a  linen  shirt.  As  he  stood  at  his  cottage  door,  he 
seemed  outwardly  superior  to  that  environment.  It 
was  his  custom  to  observe  the  clothes  of  his  betters 
and  imitate  them  —  not  with  vulgar  closeness,  but  at 


A   HAPPY    MAN  9 

modest  distance.  His  manners  he  modelled  after  the 
same  method.  Thus  he  had  a  sort  of  fashion  and  style 
of  his  own  —  above  his  station,  yet  not  so  much  above 
it  as  to  beget  either  ridicule  or  jealousy. 

Ilet  Yelland  was  coming  to  spend  the  day  with  her 
sweetheart,  and  he  looked  at  his  watch  impatiently. 
But  an  hour  had  yet  to  elapse  before  she  would  arrive; 
so  he  started  to  Sourton  village  that  he  might  meet  her 
on  the  road. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    CENOTAPHS 

THROUGH  deep  lanes  that  wind  between  Sour- 
ton  hamlet  under  Dartmoor  and  the  village  of 
Bridgetstowe,  the  woman,  Ilet  Yelland,  proceeded 
to  her  lover.  She  walked  slowly  on  the  shady  side  of 
the  way,  and  fanned  herself  with  her  handkerchief,  so 
that  she  might  be  cool  for  his  kiss.  Ilet  was  twenty- 
three  and  looked  rather  more  than  her  age.  She  was 
tall  and  slightly  built.  Her  face  was  dark,  but  healthy 
and  handsome.  Her  expression  indicated  character  and 
power  of  feeling;  her  mouth  was  steadfast  yet  full 
and  round  of  lip ;  and  her  brown  eyes  were  hghted 
from  the  heart  rather  than  the  mind.  Left  alone  in 
the  world,  she  had  come  to  live  with  an  aunt  at  Sour- 
ton,  and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  other  relatives 
not  known  to  her  before. 

One  of  these  now  walked  beside  her,  and  they  might 
have  been  judged  brother  and  sister ;  but  Abel  Pierce 
was  Ilet's  cousin.  He  dwelt  with  his  widowed  mother 
in  a  lonely  cottage  on  Dartmoor  and  lived  by  varied 
labours  —  now  at  oak-rinding  in  the  spring  woods,  now 
upon  the  railway  hard  by,  and  now  upon  the  land. 

The  young  man's  face  was  gloomy  and  love  smoul- 
dered in  his  sleepy,  sulky  eyes  as  he  stared  down  at  his 
cousin.  But  she  looked  forward  and,  while  in  her 
mind  there  lurked  some  regret  for  his  grief,  her  pretty 
mouth  was  sunny  with  smilets  and  her  heart  beat  for 
another. 

10 


THE    CENOTAPHS  ii 

Abel  Pierce  stood  six  feet  tall  and  was  a  thin  but 
powerful  and  wiry  man  of  six-and-twenty  years  old. 
His  hair  was  black  and  he  wore  a  beard  cut  to  his  chin. 
On  his  shoulder  hung  a  frail,  which  contained  bread 
and  meat  and  a  tin  can  of  tea.  He  was  going  to  join 
a  break-down  gang,  where  a  railway  truck  had  left  the 
rails  and  blocked  the  permanent  way  near  Bridgetstowe 
station  ;  and  he  had  met  his  cousin  by  accident. 

"  What  do  'e  see  in  Wolferstan  beyond  the  pros- 
perity of  the  man  ?  "   he  asked  suddenly. 

His  voice  was  a  deep  and  harsh  bass,  and  hers,  by 
contrast,  seemed  more  than  common  melodious  as  she 
answered. 

"  Prosperity's  nought.  'Tisn't  part  of  love.  I 
love  him  because  I've  got  to.  I  love  him  for  loving 
me." 

"  If  that  was  all !  Don't  I  love  you  ?  But  I'm  a 
day  labourer.  He's  a  great  man  —  though  he  was 
at  the  plough-tail   not  so  long  agone." 

"  You  don't  choose  to  understand,  Abel.  'Tisn't 
that  I'm  only  flattered  the  likes  of  him  should  care 
for  me.  How  can  I  explain  ?  You  know  what  it  is 
to  love." 

"  Yes,  by  God  !  " 

"  Abel  dear,"  she  said,  "  an'  I  love  you  too.  You're 
a  good  chap  ;  an'  a  good  son  ;  an'  happy  will  be  the 
she  that's  your  wife,  come  you  take  one." 

"Never!  There  was  only  you  for  me  —  ay,  an' 
only  me  for  you  till  master  Dodd  came  along,  wi'  his 
flower  in  his  button-hole,  an'  rosy  cheeks,  an'  yellow 
leggings.  Don't  say  *  no.'  Be  love  blind  ?  Never  ; 
'tis  eyes  all  over.  You  was  getting  to  love  me  fast. 
I  know  it.  By  a  tender  token  here  an'  there  —  by 
your  eyelids  —  an'  by  them  lips,  cuddling  one  another 
till  your  mouth  was  like  a  strawberry  ;  by  this  and  that 
and  t'other  sign  that  set  me  in  a  tremble  to  keep  my 


(C 
(C 


12  THE    PORTREEVE 

arms  from  going  round  you  !  Why  didn't  I  put  'em 
round  you  afore  he  came  —  fool  that  I  was  !  " 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  think  such  things." 
I  think  what  I  know.  An'  my  mother  knowed. 
Often  —  often  have  I  axed  her,  after  us  had  been  to 
see  you,  or  you  an'  Aunt  Susie  had  comed  to  drink 
tea  with  her  —  often  have  I  said,  '  What  dost  think, 
mother  ?  '  An'  she  have  screwed  up  her  little  eyes, 
an'  smiled  down  deep  in  her  head,  an'  the  smile  of 
her  have  wriggled  up  through  all  the  wrinkles  to  the 
surface,  like  a  fish  comes  up  from  deep  water  to  breathe. 
Then  she  have  peeped  at  me  in  her  dry,  old,  withered 
way  an'  said,  '  llet's  for  'e  —  I  knaw  the  signs  !  '  " 

"  Not  after  I  met  Mr.  Wolferstan  —  not  after  that." 

"  Mister  Wolferstan  !      'Tis  all  summed  up  there  !  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"You  won't  understand." 

"  No,  I'm  dull  —  a  regular  dolt.  You  can't  tumble 
down  the  life  I  had  built  up,  just  at  the  name  of  the 
Portreeve  of  Bridgetstowe.  But  tell  me  this.  Ban't 
much  to  ax.  Cold  comfort,  yet  a  consolement  like. 
If  he'd  never  come  along ?  " 

She  thought  before  answering  the  trite  question. 
Then  a  brisk  figure  appeared  at  a  bend  of  the  lane 
ahead,  and  Wolferstan's  stick  was  waved  in  the  air. 

"  You  ax  that,  dear  Abel  ?  If  you'd  listened  awhile 
back,  you'd  have  heard  me  say  that  I  do  love  you  — 
now,  this  minute  —  you  an'  your  mother  too  —  ever 
since  I  was  orphaned  and  came  to  join  Aunt  Susie  at 
Sourton.  As  to  how  it  might  have  fallen  —  'tis  an 
idle  question.  He's  here  —  he's  my  all,  my  first  hope 
and  thought.  He's  the  sun  to  me  to  guide  my  going 
'twixt  now  and  the  end.  His  hopes  and  fears  and 
good  and  evil  be  mine  for  evermore.  All  —  all  I'll  do 
for  him  that  a  faithful  woman  can  do  for  man.  Noth- 
ing " 


THE    CENOTAPHS  13 

"  Shut  your  mouth  !  "  he  said  roughly.  "  D'you 
think  I  don't  know  what  I've  lost,  that  you  rub  it  in 
like  this  ?  Don't  you  know  'tis  gall  and  hell  to  me  to 
hear  you  ?  Here's  my  way.  Don't  fear  me.  I'll  be 
out  o'  earshot.  I've  heard  enough  —  an'  this  I've 
heard  :  you  can  love  me  too.  He's  stolen  you  from 
me,  an',  afore  the  God  he  makes  such  a  fuss  about,  he 
shall  pay  for  it !  " 

The  love-stricken  Pierce  climbed  over  a  stile  as 
Dodd  approached. 

"  Good  morning  !  "  shouted  the  Portreeve,  but  Abel 
took  no  notice  and  went  on  his  way. 

"  Sorry,"  said  Wolferstan  as  he  kissed  his  sweet- 
heart. "  I  know  about  it.  'Tis  enough  to  make 
the  world  look  black  for  him.  Maybe  a  good  few 
more  are  in  the  same  fix.  I  can't  believe  my  luck 
even  yet,   Ilet." 

"  I  hope  you'll  always  call  it  luck,  Dodd." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  'twas  a  wrong  word  and 
dropped  from  me.  You'm  the  gift  of  Heaven.  I 
can't  tell  'e  half  of  the  thoughts  that  wake  in  me  of  a 
night  over  you — after  the  day's  work's  done.  Thoughts 
beyond  my  power  of  words  to  handle.  And  the 
prayers  I  pray  get  out  of  hand  also.  Too  big  for 
words  they  are.  'Tis  a  queer  thing,  yet  helpful. 
Prayer  rolls  out  so  wordless  as  the  river  in  flood,  or 
the  organs  in  church  when  service  is  done." 

"  Maybe  God  puts  the  words  to  it." 

"  He  do,  without  a  doubt." 

"  I  be  very  thankful  for  you,  dear  Dodd.  I  wish  I 
was  better  worth.      But  I'll  wear." 

"  Love's  nought  that  won't,  I  reckon.  I  axed  my- 
self last  night  —  to  try  myself — what  I'd  do  if  I  had 
to  choose  between  being  lord  of  the  manor  and  hus- 
band of  Ilet  Yelland." 

"  Ah  !     How  long  did  it  take  'e  to  answer?  " 


14  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  That's  the  grand  wonder  —  showing  what  love  of 
woman  be.  I  didn't  answer.  -  The  feeUng  in  me  was 
just  pure  anger  that  the  question  had  come  up  !  I 
could  have  kicked  myself  for  the  thought.  If  I  might 
be  King  of  England — what's  that  against  you  ?  Better 
have  a  queen  for  a  wife  than  be  a  king  yourself — eh?" 

"  I'll  never  drag  you  down,  my  dear.  I  ban't  very 
clever,  worse  luck,  but  'tis  wonderful  what  reading 
books  can  do,  an'  the  power  over  spelling  an'  such 
like.  Without  boastfulness,  I've  one  useful  thing 
about  me  :  an'  that's  a  power  of  silence.  Nought 
becomes  an  ignorant  woman  better.  I'll  never  shame 
'e  in  public,  Dodd." 

"  Like  your  greatness  to  think  of  such  things. 
Shame  me  !  Let  my  part  be  to  be  worthy  of  you, 
Ilet.  I  may  have  come  from  good  stock  away  back, 
an'  right  well  I  know  I  did;  an'  I'll  live  to  show  the 
world  so;  but  that's  good  fortune  —  not  to  my  own 
credit.  An'  you  —  you  are  yourself.  That's  all  I  care 
about.  An'  high  as  I  may  go,  you'll  go  higher.  I 
heard  my  pal,  Dicky  Barkell,  say  a  thing  a  bit  ago 
that  stuck  in  my  mind.  He  said  good  women  was 
always  better  than  the  best  men,  because  they  don't 
know  so  many  ways  of  being  bad.  A  man  can't  be  so 
good  as  a  woman  can." 

"  Richard  Barkell's  a  fool  behind  all  his  chatter. 
I  hate  a  man  as  talks  over  your  head.      Ban't  civil." 

"  Dick's  all  right.  But  I'm  going  to  talk  about 
Dodd  Wolferstan  to-day  an'  no  other  man.  I've 
planned  to  walk  down  Lydford  Gorge  and  show  'e 
Kit's  Steps.  But  first  there's  dinner  spread  at  the 
*  Royal  Oak.'  And  before  that,  I'm  going  to  take 
you  in  the  church  to  see  they  monuments." 

"  'Tis  all  one  to  me,  so  I'm  alongside  you,"  she 
said. 

The  church  was  approached  through  a  lofty  gate- 


THE    CENOTAPHS  15 

way  and  by  an  avenue  of  lime-trees  and  many  tombs. 
Near  the  porch  a  sexton's  tools  stood  and  a  grave 
yawned. 

"  Old  Johns  will  lie  there  to-morrow,"  said  the  Port- 
reeve. "  We  shall  miss  him  and  his  opinions.  He 
remembered  the  ancient  times  very  well.  He  was  one 
of  them  old-fashioned  men,  who  knew  what  work 
meant." 

They  entered  St.  Bridget's  and  Dodd  marched  up 
the  left  transept  and  pointed  to  an  urn  in  bas-relief 
above  a  little  tablet. 

"  That's  to  my  parents,"  he  said.  "  I  had  it  put  up 
some  time  ago.  They  died  when  I  was  a  boy,  ten 
years  old,  and  I  was  brought  up  by  other  people. 
Mother  and  father  lie  in  the  churchyard  amongst  the 
unknown  graves.      But  this  is  a  lasting  mark." 

She  nodded  and  read  the  inscription  :  — 

To  the  memory  of  Jonathan  Dodd  Wolferstan 
of  this  parish,  who  departed  this  life  on  the  20th  of 
February   1880.      Aged  54  years. 

Also  to  Jemima  Wolferstan,  his  wife,  who  died 
on  the  1 2th  of  February  188 1.      Aged  54  years. 

**  He  first  deceased.      She  for  a  little  tried 
To  live  without  him,  liked  it  not  and  died." 

This  monument  to  the  memory  of  his  loved 
parents  was  erected  by  their  son,  Dodd  Wolferstan. 

"  I  got  the  rhyme  off  an  old  tomb.  It  just  suited 
'em,"  the  man  explained.  "  When  father  died,  me 
an'  mother  had  to  go  into  the  union  workhouse,  be- 
cause she  was  a  very  weakly  woman  and  never  got 
over  bringing  me  into  the  world  in  her  forty-fourth 
year.  So  they  died  within  twelve  months  of  each  other. 
Now  I  want  you  to  look  at  this  famous  stone  to  the 
memory  of  Lady  Honor  Wolferstan.     It's  nearly  two 


i6  THE    PORTREEVE 

hundred  and  fifty  year  old.  Sexton  and  Mrs.  Ball, 
the  butt-woman,  often  laugh  when  they  see  me  reading 
it  over.      Let  'em  laugh  !     Time  will  show." 

He  took  Ilet  to  a  memorial  that  stood  within  the 
sanctuary  upon  the  left  side  of  the  holy  table.  Above 
it  shone  a  gilded  coat  of  arms  with  the  many  quarter- 
ings  of  the  Wolferstan  house. 

Dodd  read  the  record  aloud  ;  and  he  spoke  m  a 
subdued  voice,  because  other  persons  were  inspecting 
the  church :  — 

To    the    pious  memory  of  Lady   Honor  Wolferstan, 
who  departed  this  life  the  17th  day  of  December  1663. 

**  Eight  fruitful  branches  still  are  springing  sound 
Though  here  the  root  Hes  dead  within  the  ground. 
Two  husbands  in  their  tombs  divided  lie 
Who  both  did  in  the  bed  of  Honor  die. 
But  here  the  King  of  Terrors,  oh  unjust. 
At  last  hath  lay'd  their  Honor  in  the  dust 
Till  that  which  here  is  in  dishonour  sown 
Be  raised  in  Honour  to  a  glorious  Throne." 

"  Now  I  hold  'tis  from  that  great  lady  I  spring," 
continued  the  Portreeve.  "  *  Eight  fruitful  branches  ' 
—  mark  that.  She  had  four  sons  and  two  daughters 
by  her  second  husband,  and  three  of  those  four  sons 
married  and  got  families.  'Tis  my  pastime  to  trace  it 
out,  though  in  honesty  I  can't  say  as  the  hnks  meet 
yet.      My  grandfather  was  a  humble  man." 

"  What  does  it  matter  so  long  as  you  are  you  ?  " 

"  It  matters  a  great  deal.  When  I've  got  a  bit  of 
money  to  spend,  I'm  going  to  do  more  about  it. 
Money's  the  thing." 

"  'Tis  the  last  matter  I'd  spend  on,"  she  said. 

"  'Tis  the  first  that  I  shall,"  he  answered  calmly. 
"  You  haven't  thought  about  it.  When  you  have, 
you'll  feel  different.     Blood's  a  grand  idea.     It  may 


THE    CENOTAPHS  17 

have  streamed  down  through  a  few  common  women 
here  and  there;  but  that  don't  signify.  Nought 
stamps  it  out  of  a  man  wholly.  The  Courtenay  nose 
has  lasted  for  centuries,  I'm  told.  Wolferstans  have 
done  good  things  too.  'Tis  a  name  with  a  ring  to  it, 
in  my  opinion." 

"  'Twill  ring  true  enough  as  long  as  you  bear  it." 

"  Please  God.  But  let  me  only  get  the  weight  of 
the  great  behind  my  back,  and  see  how  'twill  push  me 
forward  !  " 

"  I  wonder,  with  your  high  notions,  you  didn't  look 
elsewhere  for  a  wife." 

"  Why  ?  A  female  can't  raise  a  man.  'Tis  him 
lifts  her  up  —  according  to  the  length  and  breadth  of 
his  name.      I'm  a  Wolferstan      Where's  better?" 

"  The  Horns  where  you  used  to  work  to  Bowden 
be  an  ancient  house,  my  aunt  tells  me." 

He  nodded. 

"  True  ;  an'  they've  helped  to  make  history  in  their 
way.  'Twas  actually  on  their  land  that  there  fell 
heavy  fighting  in  the  wars,  when  King  Charles  the  First 
and  Oliver  Cromwell  were  at  death  grips.  By  night 
in  a  gale  of  wind  they  fought.  Miss  Primrose  knowed 
all  about  it,  for  her  forbears  were  there  and  helped  the 
king's  men.  It  shows  how  time  topples  things.  Now 
Farmer  Horn's  no  better  than  a  red  radical,  and  his 
daughter  don't  take  a  pin  of  pride  in  her  havage." 

"  Did  you  used  to  see  much  of  her  when  you  was 
bailiff  there  .?  " 

They  moved  away  from  the  Wolferstan  monument 
as  other  visitors  approached  it,  led  by  Mrs.  Ball. 
Then  Dodd  answered  Ilet's  question. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  a  lot  of  her.  She  was  a  great  study  in 
womanhood  to  me,  always." 

"  She's  lovely  —  I  know  that  much." 

"  Not   a  doubt   of  it ;    an'   wonderful   brave   for  a 
c 


i8  THE    PORTREEVE 

woman.  Good  blood  there,  I'll  warrant !  I  always 
felt  that  with  her,  for  all  her  own  contempt  of  it.  A 
strong-minded  sort  of  girl — and  more  than  kind  to  me. 
'Twas  she  helped  me  not  a  little  to  gather  knowledge  of 
bygone  Wolferstans." 

"  Belike  you  was  fond  of  her  ?  " 

"  D'you  mind  what  you  told  me  you  felt  for  Abel 
Pierce  —  your  cousin  ?  An  easy  sort  of  regard  as 
might  have  borne  forcing  into  ripeness  if  nothing  else 
had  happened.     That  was  your  frank  v/ord." 

"A  thought  too  frank,  perhaps,"  she  said. 

"  Not  so.  I  never  felt  vexed  about  it.  'Twas  pure 
honesty  in  you  to  admit  it.  An'  I'll  be  as  honest  as 
you.  That's  how  I  felt  to  her  —  to  say  it  in  all 
humbleness.  Of  course  she  weren't  interested  in  me. 
Why  should  she  have  been  ?  We're  very  good  friends 
now.  I'm  going  there  to  eat  my  dinner  on  Sunday. 
It  hasn't  been  proved  I'm  her  equal ;  but  she  knows  it 
can  be  proved." 

I  let's  eyes  clouded,  but  her  tongue  gave  praise. 

"  A  lovely  thing  to  see  on  horseback." 

"  She  is.  She  lives  for  'em  in  her  queer  way  — 
bosses,  I  mean.  They  are  her  first  friends.  Yet  she's 
not  what  the  quality  call  a  *  horsey  woman.'  Still,  'tis 
a  pleasure  for  any  sportsman  to  see  her  mounted." 

"  I  could  a'most  find  it  in  me  to  hate  her  for  know- 
ing you  so  many  years  afore  I  did.  The  more  I  think, 
the  more  the  wonder  grows  how  you  can  love  as  low 
as  me,  Dodd." 

"  Don't  say  silly  things  like  that;  and  don't  think 
them.  You're  as  much  above  me,  as  I  am  above  poor 
old  Crocker,  who  touched  his  hat  to  me  as  we  came 
down  the  hill.  Yet  there  have  been  Crockers  that 
hob-nobbed  with  Dukes.  Time  do  tumble  families 
over  and  over  so.  Men  are  like  sand  in  a  spring  — 
churned  up  one  minute  to  go  down  the  next." 


THE    CENOTAPHS  19 

"To  think  of  chaps  touching  their  hats  to  you  !  " 
"  Well,   first   time   one   did   it,   I    went    home    and 
pondered  for  an  hour.      'Twas  a  landmark  in   life,  for 
you  can  separate  men  roughly  by  them  as  pull  their 
hair  and  them   as  don't." 

"  Don't  you  touch  yours  to  your  betters,  my  dear?  " 
"  Not  anyhow,  like  I  did.  There's  grades  in  that 
business.  For  instance,  where  I  did  touch  my  hat  to 
ladies  —  now  I  take  it  off.  But,  mark  you,  not  like 
their  own  men  take  'em  off;  but  with  a  difference  and 
a  bit  of  a  bow.  Their  own  men  bow  from  the  neck. 
I  bow  from  the  small  of  the  back.  When  I'm  higher 
up,  I  shall  bow  from  the  neck  too." 

"To  think  of  such  niceness  !     The  difficulty " 

"  It  sounds  more  difficult  than  it  is,"  he  told  her. 
"  There  are  things  that  seem  a  lot  to  tell  about,  but 
are  nothing  to  do.  They  come  like  nature.  I  salute 
men  just  with  the  amount  of  civility  that's  due  to  'em. 
To  parson  I  always  cap  and  always  shall  —  to  the  holy 
calling  as  well  as  to  the  man.  Also,  of  course,  to  the 
lord  of  the  manor.  My  father  always  touched  his  hat 
to  a  pair  of  horses,  whether  he  knowed  the  parties  or 
not.  'Twas  a  simple  rule  and  no  harm  done  to  his 
self-respect  —  seeing  he  was  but  a  hedge-tacker." 
"  You'll  never  be  ashamed  of  his  memory,  however?" 
"  Not  I.  He  was  an  honest  man  in  all  things. 
I'm  shamed  of  nothing  belonging  to  me.  I'd  speak 
of  all  —  except — well,  to  be  clear,  there's  no  need  to 
dwell  upon  them  early  days  in  the  workhouse.  I  hate 
the  word.  I  got  out  of  it  and  began  earning  my  own 
living  at  thirteen." 

She  was  leaving  the  church  when  he  stopped  her. 
"  Wait  till  those  people  go,  then  just  kneel  down 
beside  me,  Ilet — just  a  minute.     I  want  to  see  you 
there.       Us    have    been    tokened    ten    days,   but    we 
haven't  knelt  close  together  to  thank  God." 


20  THE    PORTREEVE 

She  put  her  hand  into  his  where  they  sat;  then, 
when  left  alone,  they  prayed  for  a  little  while. 

All  fell  out  as  Dodd  had  planned.  The  day  passed 
joyfully  for  them  both,  and  in  the  dewy  dusk,  where  a 
churn-owl  made  his  harsh  music  and  dor-beetles  set 
night  throbbing,  the  Portreeve  drove  his  love  home 
again  to  Sourton. 


CHAPTER    III 


A    SUPPER    PARTY 


ABEL  PIERCE  and  his  mother  dwelt  in  a  cottage 
beside  West  Okement,  where  that  river  winds 
beneath  the  northern  ramparts  of  Dartmoor.  A 
rivulet  called  Fishcombe  Head  Water  here  joins  the 
parent  stream,  and  at  the  junction  stood  Pierce's  most 
lonely  home  under  Homerton  Hill.  Enormous  un- 
dulations of  the  land  billowed  down  to  the  valley  and 
then  rolled  up  again  on  the  other  side.  They  merged 
their  foot-hills  at  this  snug  and  sheltered  dingle  and 
hemmed  in  silence,  save  for  the  endless  music  of  the 
river.  No  storm  shook  this  spot ;  no  tempest  broke 
here  until  itself  was  broken  on  the  granite  wilderness 
above.  The  Moor  might  be  swept  by  hurricanes, 
stabbed  by  lightning,  flogged  by  hail,  but  the  seques- 
tered coomb  continued  at  peace,  and  the  story  of  the 
upland  chaos  only  came  in  the  roar  of  the  river.  Cross 
eddies  of  the  south-east  wind  raving  down  by  Fish- 
combe Head  Water  did  indeed  invade  the  cottage  at 
times  and  freeze  the  milk  in  the  larder ;  then  Henny 
Pierce,  Abel's  mother,  would  desert  her  kitchen  and 
light  her  parlour  fire  until  the  wind  changed. 

Behind  the  house  a  deep  dingle  sloped  upward  be- 
tween the  hills  of  Homerton  and  Longstone  to  the 
boggy  apron  of  Black  Tor  ;  and  through  its  midst 
Fishcombe  Head  Water  tumbled  and  clattered  by 
granite  and  heather,  ferns  and  grasses,  golden  rod  and 
the  purple  buttons  of  the  devil's  bit  scabius.     A  great 

21 


22  THE    PORTREEVE 

holly  tree  marked  its  winding  way,  and  not  far  from 
the  cottage  was  one  deep  pool  into  which  glittering 
mosses  dripped  crystal.  Around  about  primroses  and 
the  golden  saxifrage  glimmered  in  springtime ;  and 
here,  on  Sunday  mornings,  Abel  Pierce  was  wont  to 
bathe  and  wash  the  stain  of  six  days'  labour  from  his 
body. 

Westerly  of  the  cot  sprang  up  South  Down  —  a 
mighty  hill  where  the  seasons  worked  their  patterns  as 
on  a  loom.  Tangled  brakes  of  hawthorn  and  furze 
climbed  upward  to  the  fringe  of  forests,  and,  between 
them,  naked  clitters  of  blue  stone  shone  or  sulked 
according  to  the  sky.  In  June  the  may  lighted  this 
expanse  and  the  greater  gorse  spread  like  a  running 
fire  ;  then  with  passing  of  spring,  the  hawthorn  faded 
through  phases  of  delicate  pink,  the  gorse  perished, 
and  the  highest  colour-song  was  on  the  blue-grey  shale 
slopes  which  thrust  themselves  in  scattered  debris 
through  the  grassy  integument  of  the  down.  These 
stones  faced  the  east,  so  that  morning  touched  them  as 
the  sun  heaved  above  Yes  Tor  and  woke  their  respon- 
sive neutral  tints  to  reflection  of  rose  or  silver  on  fair 
mornings,  or  the  leaden  grey  of  rain  when  day  broke 
darkly. 

Then  waxed  the  heath  and  later  gorse,  and  anon 
russet  harmonies  of  brake-fern  and  autumn  leaves  burnt 
along  the  hill,  with  flash  of  falling  foliage  and  crimson 
and  scarlet  and  purple  fruits  from  the  whitethorn  and 
the  briony,  the  blackthorn  and  the  briar.  Lastly,  winter 
drowned  all  with  torrents  of  rushing  water,  or  dwarfed 
the  hugeness  of  the  place  in  snow.  Then  vanished  its 
deep  concavities  and  curves,  delicate  hillocks  and 
dimples,  slopes  and  steeps  in  one  far-flung  coverlet  of 
whiteness. 

Hither  returned  Abel  after  a  heavy  day  of  work ; 
and  twice  he  looked  at  his  watch  as  he  tramped  back 


•A   SUPPER    PARTY 


23 


over  Corn  Ridge;  because  it  happened  that  on  this  even- 
ing guests  were  expected  at  Fishcombe  Cot,  and  Pierce 
desired  not  to  be  late  for  so  unusual  an  occasion. 

Old  Abner  Barkell  and  his  son,  Richard,  had 
already  arrived  when  their  host  returned.  They  dwelt 
a  mile  distant  in  Meldon  valley  near  the  railway  bridge. 
Mr.  Barkell's  labours  had  ceased,  and  he  passed 
through  the  latter  phases  of  his  existence  under  the 
shadow  of  the  mighty  steel  structure  he  had  assisted  to 
build.  It  dominated  his  life,  and  that  fragment  of  the 
world's  energy  represented  by  his  working  days,  was 
now  to  some  extent  embalmed  amid  the  numberless 
rivets  of  Meldon  Viaduct.  He  had  laboured  at  its 
construction  and,  since  its  completion,  had  been  em- 
ployed to  assist  in  repairing  the  giant  when  need  arose. 
He  knew  the  bridge  as  a  watchmaker  knows  a  watch  or 
an  engineer  his  engine.  It  was  his  life,  as  art  is  the 
life  of  an  artist,  as  the  oak  is  the  life  of  her  proper 
hamadryad.  Abner's  son  was  also  employed  by  the 
South  Western  Railway,  and  pursued  his  business  of 
signalman  in  a  box  beyond  the  viaduct,  where  the 
railroad  splits  and  a  branch  winds  north-west  to  Corn- 
wall. 

In  regarding  the  ancient  Barkell,  one  was  conscious 
rather  of  a  bald  neck  than  head.  A  small,  round-eyed 
face  peered  forward  on  its  elongated  throat,  like  a  with- 
ered flower  upon  its  stalk.  He  was  red  and  wrinkled, 
cheerful  and  hopeful.  He  could  be  merry  on  every 
subject  but  that  of  the  viaduct.  When  speaking  of 
this,  his  voice  sank,  as  a  voice  sinks  if  religion  is  the 
matter.  He  was  nearly  bald;  his  eyes  watered  and 
lacked  lashes  or  brows,  but  merriment  as  well  as 
rheum  shone  about  them.  His  round  nose  was  veined 
with  purple,  and  he  had  no  hair  upon  his  face,  save 
for  one  wart,  under  his  right  ear,  from  which  de- 
pended a  silver  thread  or  two.     His  voice  was  weak 


24  THE    PORTREEVE 

but  echoed  laughter.  Abner's  son  appeared  to  be  a 
youthful  copy  of  himself.  Richard  had  the  same  long 
neck  and  small,  amiable  countenance.  His  hair  was 
thin  and  of  a  nondescript  brown.  His  forehead  was 
better  developed  than  his  parent's,  and  he  possessed 
more  intelligence.  Yet  to  him  also,  viewed  from  an 
outer  standpoint,  Hfe  was  chiefly  matter  for  amusement. 
He  was  still  young;  he  had  never  plunged  into  the  art 
of  living  seriously,  and  never  intended  to  do  so.  Life 
to  the  young  and  old  becomes  a  circumstance  without 
over-much  detail.  Ignorance  and  forgetfulness  may 
bring  the  spectator  to  a  like  conclusion  concerning  it. 
Only  in  the  midst  of  the  fight  much  material  for  real 
gravity  offers.  To  Abner  nothing  mattered  now  but 
the  welfare  of  Meldon  Viaduct;  to  his  son  nothing 
mattered  at  all.  He  was  no  fool,  yet  often  seemed  so 
to  his  neighbours,  owing  to  an  accident  of  character. 
The  younger  Barkell  had  no  ambition,  and  his  friends 
—  Dodd  Wolferstan  among  the  number  —  presented 
to  him  the  curious  spectacle  of  much  trouble  being 
taken  upon  matters  not  worthy  of  trouble.  His  philo- 
sophic attitude  was  unconscious,  but  constitutional.  It 
tended  to  utmost  simplification  of  life,  and  its  selfish- 
ness did  not  specially  appear,  since  its  obvious  obliga- 
tions were  few.  He  had  two  elder  brothers  who  were 
both  sailors  ;  and  a  sister  happily  married  to  a  small 
tradesman  at  Exeter.  His  widowed  father  sank  to  old 
age  without  more  physical  discomfort  than  rheumatism 
and  the  load  of  seventy  years.  The  signalman's  work 
was  child's  play  to  one  of  his  intellect,  and  gave  him 
leisure  for  his  solitary  amusement :  that  of  reading. 

Mr.  Barkell  wore  his  Sunday  black  on  the  occasion 
of  this  supper,  and  Richard,  who  had  come  directly 
from  work,  displayed  the  regulation  velveteen  suit  and 
scarlet  necktie  of  his  Railway. 

"  Here  us  be  ! "  said  Abner,  as  Pierce  entered  the 


A    SUPPER    PARTY  25 

kitchen.  "  'TIs  like  the  goodness  of  you  people  to 
take  us,  I'm  sure.  Our  kitchen  boiler  will  be  mended 
Monday  ;  then  you  must  come  over  and  peck  along 
with  us  ;  though  my  boy's  cooking  at  best  is  but  a  sin 
and  a  shame." 

Abel  went  into  an  outhouse  to  wash  ;  then  he  joined 
the  supper  party. 

Mr.  Barkell's  nose,  veined  with  the  delicacy  of  a 
flower-petal,  sniffed  the  close  air. 

"Irish  stew  —  eh.''  'Tis  the  king  of  victuals  in 
proper  hands.  A  free  use  of  onions,  I  see,  Henny 
Pierce  —  like  your  big  nature.  No  mean  woman  can 
cook  well.  It  calls  for  a  generous  spirit — a  light  hand 
and  a  large  heart." 

Abel  turned  down  the  lamp,  which  was  smoking. 

All  ate  heartily,  but  darkness  fed  with  the  master  of 
the  feast,  and  he  returned  no  more  than  surly  grunts 
and  nods  to  the  speeches,  jests  and  questions  of  his 
friends.  Richard  knew  the  trouble  and  avoided  the 
theme ;  but  old  Abner  was  ignorant  of  the  matter  and 
now  unwittingly  touched  it.  When  the  stew  was  fin- 
ished, Mrs.  Pierce  rose  and  cleared  the  table.  Then 
she  set  clean  plates  and  went  to  the  oven. 

"  A  pudden  too  !  'Tis  a  brave  spread,  an'  I'm  sure 
we  thank  you  kindly,"  declared  Mr.  Barkell.  "  I  do 
wish  I  could  risk  another  half-pint,  but  your  brew  be 
a  thought  stronger'n  ours.  What  do  'e  think,  Dicky ; 
shall  I  have  a  dash  at  it  ?  " 

"  Let  your  bones  answer.  'Tis  they  have  to  pay 
your  beer-bill,"  said  his  son, 

"Then  fill  my  glass  !  I  m  off  duty  to-night,  so  all's 
said." 

It  was  a  fiction  with  the  veteran  that  he  had  duty 
on  the  viaduct.  He  received  a  small  pension  from  the 
Company  and  was  permitted  to  haunt  the  scene  of  his 
former  toil.      In  truth,  he  possessed  no  responsibility 


26  ,  THE    PORTREEVE 

whatever ;  but  he  believed  the  case  otherwise  and 
regarded  himself  as  a  sort  of  prime  caretaker  of  the 
vast  span  above  Oke  gorge. 

With  his  mouth  full  of  currant  dumpling,  Abner 
now  struck  the  delicate  subject  of  Ilet  Yelland. 

"  Dash  my  old  wig  !  what  changes  one  hears  tell  of! 
So  that  bowerly  cousin  of  yours  have  took  up  with  the 
Portreeve  to  Bridgetstowe.  A  fine  couple  without  a 
doubt,  though  us  all  thought  you  was  the  chosen." 

Dicky  tried  to  kick  his  father  under  the  table  ;  but, 
instead,  his  heavy  boot  grazed  Pierce's  shin.  Abel 
appreciated  the  situation  and  smiled  grimly. 

"  Let  him  talk.  Yes  —  she's  took  up  with  Wolfer- 
stan.      But  there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  an'  the 

lip. 

"  She'm  a  very  naughty  girl,"  declared  Henny. 
"  As  good  as  tokened  to  Abel  here ;  then  that  rosy 
youth  —  so  trim  an'  dapper  —  shakes  her  out  of  her- 
self an'  darkens  her  judgment." 

Mr.  Barkell  spoke. 

"  A  coorious  fashion  of  man.  To  think  of  his 
father  trimming  hedges,  an'  that  dirt  low  that  he'd  run 
messages  for  a  gipsy  !  An'  this  chap  rising  so  high  in 
the  land." 

"  He  ain't  got  but  one  gift ;  an'  that's  the  gift  of 
getting  on,"  declared  Mrs.  Pierce  in  grudging  tones. 
She  smarted  for  her  son. 

"  'Tis  like  charity,"  answered  Abner,  sucking  his 
cheeks.  "It  covers  a  multitude.  He've  the  skill  to 
get  on  the  blind  side  of  the  bettermost.  'Tis  a  great 
accomplishment  in  him." 

"  There's  safety  in  smallness,  however,"  said  his 
son,  "  —  safety  an'  peace." 

"  No  doubt,"  admitted  the  elder.  "  A  fly  can  ride 
on  a  raging  great  bullock's  back  quite  comfortable ; 
but  you  an'  me  wouldn't  travel  far  that  way.     'Tis  no 


A   SUPPER    PARTY  27 

real  hardship  to  creep  through  the  world  on  bread  an' 
bacon,  when  you  see  what  trouble  overtakes  the  great." 

"  All  the  same,  'tis  a  feeble  thought,"  answered 
Abel ;  "  I  don't  blame  the  man  for  aiming  at  big 
things.  I  try  even  in  my  small  way  to  get  above  the 
work  I'm  called  to;  though  I  don't  rise,  through 
being  one  of  the  unlucky  ones.  But  I  blame  him 
with  all  my  force  for  coming  between  me  an'  her. 
I'm  among  friends,  and  so  I  say  'twas  a  damned  dirty 
trick,  an'  the  last  word's  not  spoken  yet.  I'll  marry 
the  woman  ;  an'  you'll  live  to  see  it." 

The  signalman  regarded  Pierce  with  interest.  That 
a  man  should  thus  start  forth  deliberately  to  compli- 
cate life  was  passing  strange  to  his  mind. 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  help  —  that's  all,"  he  said. 

"  You  !  A  cold-blooded  toad  like  you  !  You  that 
looks  at  your  fellow-creatures  as  if  we  was  horseman- 
ship or  a  show  at  a  fair  !  No,  I  don't  want  your  help, 
nor  any  other  man's  ;  but  I  say  it  here,  wi'  half  a  pint 
of  beer  in  me  an'  no  more,  that  I'll  marry  the  woman 
from  under  his  nose  —  by  God  I  will !  " 

His  mother  regarded  her  son  nervously,  yet  not 
without  admiration. 

"That's  the  sort  he  Is  —  like  his  father  before  him," 
she  said  to  Abner. 

"Yes  —  I  mind  the  chap  very  well  —  a  size  larger 
than  Abel,  weren't  he  ?  The  joke  was  that  they  said 
he  carried  you  about  in  his  pocket,  ma'am." 

"Six  foot  three  —  an'  girth  to  match  it.  Always 
hungry  for  two  men's  work." 

"  Yet  Death  took  him  like  a  fly,"  murmured  the 
ancient. 

"  'Twas  steam  power  killed  him,"  she  answered 
proudly.  "  I  mind  how  they  said  that  nothing  less 
than  a  traction  engine  could  have  done  it." 

The  recollection  appeared  to  comfort  Henny.     She 


28  THE    PORTREEVE 

fetched  spirits  from  the  cupboard  and  some  clean 
tumblers.  All  three  men  were  now  smoking  and  the 
little  room  reeked.  Mrs.  Pierce  put  another  peat  on 
the  fire  and  went  into  the  wash-house.  From  here 
she  joined  in  the  conversation  while  she  cleaned  the 
plates. 

"  All's  fair  in  love,  according  to  the  old  saying," 
began  Abel  with  smouldering  eyes. 

"  Ban't  a  subject  as  I  can  throw  light  upon,"  con- 
fessed the  signalman.  "  Females  don't  touch  me ; 
but  you  —  you  was  always  peeping  over  the  wall  at  the 
girls,  when  we  went  to  national  school  and  their  play- 
ground was  next  to  ours." 

"  A  oner  for  women  I  was  too,"  declared  Mr.  Bar- 
kell  complacently  ;  "  so  be  Jack  an'  Samson,  my  sailor 
sons.  'Tis  a  very  common  taste  in  seafaring  men. 
Perhaps  'tis  knowing  the  ease  they  can  escape  by  water 
when  the  ship  sails.  But  Dicky  here  —  he'm  differ- 
ent ;  or  if  he  ban't,  then  he'm  a  liar." 

"  You  come  along  an'  don't  call  me  names,  my 
old  dear,"  replied  his  son.  "  When  I  find  a  woman 
as  tempts  me  to  think  of  matrimony,  I'll  put  it  in 
the  newspaper.  But  I  don't  reckon  'twill  be  very 
soon." 

"  Think  of  your  old  age,  Dicky,"  shouted  Mrs. 
Pierce  from  the  wash-house. 

"That's  it,"  he  called  back.  "  My  judgment  is  that 
widow-men  have  a  lot  the  best  of  it ;  and  bachelor-men 
be  better  off  still." 

"  How  'bout  the  childer  to  keep  'e  out  of  the  work- 
house at  the  end,  if  you  don't  happen  to  have  good 
luck  ?  " 

"  'Tis  the  childer  take  you  there  so  often  as  not. 
I'd  sooner  have  an  annuity  than  the  best  childer  as 
ever  waited  wi'  hungry  eyes  for  me  to  die  an'  get  out 
o'  the  way.      I  don't  mean  to  be  under  no  obligations 


A    SUPPER    PARTY  29 

to  childer.  There's  nought  easier  on  God's  earth 
than  not  getting  a  wife  an'  family,  Mrs.  Pierce  !  " 

"  Go  along  with  you  !  "  she  answered.  "  You  just 
wait  till  something  in  petticoats  comes  uppermost  as'll 
shake  you  like  a  rush  in  the  wind.  The  female's  born 
that  will  make  you  look  a  fool,  Richard  Barkell." 

"  So  I  tell  him,"  declared  Richard's  parent ;  "  and 
for  my  part,  the  sooner  the  better.  For,  to  say  truth, 
I  miss  a  woman  about  our  house  cruel,  an'  all  the  more 
after  such  a  supper  as  this.  Dicky's  a  peart  chap,  but 
his  cooking  —  a  very  cut-throat  business,  I  assure  'e  ! 
An',  when  1  hug  my  belly,  he  says,  '  What's  the  odds 
after  it's  gone  down  ? '  Why,  'tis  just  then  that  Nature 
ups  and  tells  you  what's  the  odds  !  The  odds  between 
cooking  an'  messing.  But  Dick's  got  a  digestion  like 
a  dog,  and  all's  one  to  him.  What  don't  fill  fattens, 
an'  what  don't  fatten  fills,  wi'  him." 

Presently  father  and  son  prepared  to  depart,  and 
Abel  accompanied  them  for  half  a  mile  through  the 
roughest  part  of  the  road.  Then  Mr.  Barkell  released 
his  arm  and  the  labourer,  with  a  short  '  good-bye,' 
took  himself  and  his  sombre  thoughts  back  to  his 
mother. 

Abner  stood  a  moment  in  the  dewy  vallev,  to  fill 
his  pipe  and  rest  awhile  before  beginning  the  steep 
ascent  to  his  home.  Round  about  in  the  mystery  of 
the  summer  night  giant  fragments  of  machinery  rose 
stark  and  silent,  and  high  above,  among  the  stars,  a 
wisp  of  steel  spanned  the  huge  gap  where  Oke  left 
Dartmoor  and  entered  the  valleys  beneath.  Meldon 
Viaduct  hung  like  a  spider's  web  spun  of  silver  above 
the  mists  of  the  gorge.  Arms  fell  from  it  to  the  dark- 
ness below,  and  the  whole,  fraught  with  night's  own 
magic,  possessed  a  beauty  of  its  own  —  a  beauty  higher 
than  the  inherent  beauty  of  perfect  adaptation  to  its 
purpose.     The  iron  way  floated  above  them,  frail  and 


30  THE    PORTREEVE 

delicate,  like  some  dream-path  for  spirits.  Yet  here, 
transformed  by  that  starry  hour  to  mere  staple  of  light 
against  darkness,  there  towered  a  thousand  tons  of 
steel  supporting  a  thoroughfare  whereon  forty  thou- 
sand human  souls  sped  yearly  across  the  dizzy  depths 
below. 

Mr.  Barkell  regarded  the  mighty  fabric  as  though 
his  brain  had  conceived  and  his  hand  created  it. 

"  She'll  be  wanting  a  coat  of  paint  come  spring,"  he 
remarked. 

Then,  out  on  to  the  silvery  thread,  like  a  lizard  with 
red  eyes,  there  crept  a  flat,  dark  object  and  slipped 
across  soundless,  for  the  noise  of  the  river  prevented 
any  murmur  from  aloft. 

"  There  goes  the  ten-thirty,"  said  Abner. 

"Yes  —  late  as  usual,"  answered  his  son.  "She'll 
never  run  to  table  as  long  as  Matthew  Wilson  drives 
her.  Born  late,  that  man,  and  not  catched  up  his 
time.  Can't  make  time,  seemingly,  like  some  clever 
souls  here  and  there.  Look  at  Ted  Wilson  in  Seth 
Harry's  shop  to  Okehampton.  Own  brother  to  that 
engine-driver ;  yet  he  uses  time  like  a  master." 

Mr.  Barkell  was  pleased. 

"  True,  Richard,  and  a  sharp  thing  to  have  marked 
in  a  youth  like  you.  There's  some  men  can  make 
thirty  minutes  do  the  work  of  an  hour — just  like  some 
can  make  thirty  pence  do  the  work  of  a  crown.  'Tis 
just  a  gitt  of  nature." 

"  Which  you  and  me  haven't  got,  my  old  dear." 

Richard's  parent  stopped  to  blow. 

"  Very  few  men  have  got  it,"  he  answered,  between 
his  gasps.  "  'Tis  mostly  a  female's  art.  Granted  they 
ain't  got  our  earning  power ;  but  'tis  a  butivul  arrange- 
ment an'  makes  a  happy  home  where  a  man  earns  an' 
a  woman  saves.      I  wish  you'd  find  such  a  one." 

"  Better  still  to  do  the  saving  and  earning  both  your- 


A    SUPPER    PARTY  31 

self,"  said   Dicky.     "  Here  ;  take  my  arm,  and  don't 
talk  no  more  till  we  get  home-along." 

He  helped  his  father  up  the  stiff  slope  where  their 
little  house  stood,  perched  high  upon  the  left  shoulder 
of  the  valley. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    ISLAND    OF    ROCKS 

N  a  morning  one  month  after  the  holiday  with 
her  lover,  I  let  Yelland  started  early  for  the 
Moor.  Her  goal  was  the  shaggy  slope  of 
Black  Tor ;  and  to  reach  it  she  passed  easterly  from 
her  home,  crossed  Oke  at  a  spot  known  as  "  the 
Island,"  which  lies  in  the  western  branch  of  that  river, 
and  toiled  onward  up  the  opposite  hill. 

Above  her  stretched  a  marsh,  ruled  into  black 
ridges  by  peat  cutting.  The  place  was  approached  by 
a  rough  track  from  Fishcombc  Head  Water,  and  here, 
suddenly,  where  the  girl  sat  to  rest  awhile,  a  horse's 
head  bobbed  over  the  heather  and  a  man's  head  fol- 
lowed it.  A  moment  later  Abel  Pierce  stopped  his 
cart  and  stood  beside  his  cousin.  Since  their  parting 
near  Bridgetstowe  they  had  not  met. 

Pierce  hitched  his  whip  over  the  hames  of  the 
horse's  collar,  then  came  across  to  where  his  cousin  sat. 

Much  had  happened  in  this  man's  mind,  and  he 
moved  by  nether  ways  of  late.  From  the  standpoint 
that  all  was  fair  under  present  circumstances,  he  had 
started  and  swiftly  lost  himself  in  darkness.  His  con- 
science and  his  intentions  were  at  war.  Once,  in  con- 
fidence, he  had  spoken  to  his  mother  and  revealed  a 
shadow  of  his  purpose. 

"  'Twas  robbery  to  come  between,"  he  said.  "And 
such  as  him  must  be  fought  with  his  own  weapons. 
An'  one  lie's  so  good  as  another.  A  lie  is  a  good  tool, 
mother." 

32 


THE    ISLAND    OF    ROCKS  33 

"  For  a  rascal,"  she  answered,  "  not  for  my  son, 
Abel." 

"  I  only  wanted  to  see  what  you'd  think.  No  need 
to  lie.  Truth's  strong  enough.  Do  you  mind  the  tale 
of  Minnie  Masters  .?  " 

"  That's  long  forgot." 

"  People  believe  it  yet  here  and  there.      I   do  for 
>> 
one. 

Henny  shook  her  head  and  looked  very  grave. 

"  Evil  will  come  of  this.  Wolferstan  made  it  clear 
as  light  that  that  wicked  rumour  was  false.  Why, 
near  three  years  have  passed  since  the  poor  creature 
drownded  herself.  You'll  never  bring  up  that.  He 
might  take  the  law  of  you." 

But  her  son  did  not  answer.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
his  last  hope  lay  here.  He  knew  Ilet  and  felt  a  vague 
belief  that  if  the  breath  of  this  vanished  scandal  could 
be  revived  and  reach  her,  something  might  come  of  it. 

Now  he  met  her,  and  she  rose  and  smiled  and  shook 
hands  heartily. 

"  Whatever  brings  you  so  far,  Abel  ?  " 

"  I'm  here  for  another  journey  of  peat  for  Bowden." 

He  pointed  to  chocolate-coloured  sections  of  the 
fuel  piled  close  at  hand.  Two  and  two  the  scads  stood 
propped  in  pairs  to  dry.  They  dotted  the  heather 
beside  the  cuttings,  like  a  little  camp  of  fairy   tents. 

"And  I've  come  for  berries.  The  hills  be  purple 
with  'em,  and  they'm  hanging  well  this  year." 

"  All's  well  with  you  an'  Aunt  Susan  ?  " 

"All's  well.     An'  with  you?" 

"  All's  blank.      I  love  you  so  cruel." 

"  Dear  Abel  —  an'  don't  I  love  you  ?  " 

"To  be  second's  to  be  nought.      I'm  troubled,  an' 
more   than   troubled.     But   how   can    I    speak  if  one 
man's  name  mustn't  be  named  between  us  ? " 
Why  not  ? " 

D 


(C 


34  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  I  can't  speak  of  him  with  kindness,  and  won't  any 
other  way." 

"  You  can't  speak  of  him  any  other  way,"  she  said 
quickly.  "  No  hving  man  can  say  a  hard  word  of 
Dodd  Wolferstan." 

"  A  dead  woman  might.  But  you'm  right :  no  liv- 
ing man  —  least  of  all  me  —  be  like  to  say  a  harsh 
syllable.  Don't  look  like  that  —  so  fierce.  I  don't 
say  as  everybody  believed  it.  I'd  wring  his  neck  to- 
morrow—  for  love  of  you;  but  I  wouldn't  hurt  your 
feelings,  I'm  sure." 

"  That  won't  do  for  me,"  she  answered  slowly,  and 
her  mellow  voice  sank  to  lower  depths.  "  You've  said 
a  thing  that  there's  no  unsaying.  You  said  it  deliber- 
ate.    You  meant  to  say  it." 

"  It  jumped  out." 

"Well,  go  on.     What  more's  to  say?" 

"  Be  I,  as  blesses  your  shadow,  going  to  drop  gall 
in  your  cup  —  now  in  your  love-time?  I'm  sorry  I 
spoke.  'Twas  a  thing  blazed  about  long  before  ever 
you  came  to  Sourton.  A  stupid  rumour  —  dead,  no 
doubt,  now." 

"  Not  dead  in  your  mind." 

"  God  curse  me  !  "  he  burst  out.  "  God  strike  me 
dumb.  I'm  never  myself  along  with  you.  I  wish  to 
Christ  I'd  never  seen  your  lovely  face.  You've  ruined 
my  life.  Ax  the  man  himself,  if  you  care  to  know 
any  more." 

"  Likely  !  As  if  I'd  demean  myself.  Do  I  want 
to  hear  anything  he  don't  please  to  tell  me  ? " 

"Then  let  it  drop.  I  'most  wonder  he  didn't  tell 
the  tale  after  he'd  got  'e  safe.  An'  yet,  I  don't ;  for 
why  should  we  cry  stinking  fish  to  them  that  love 
US  r 

"  Go  !  "  she  said.  "  What  you've  spoke  have  run 
through    my    head    like    water    through    a    sieve.       I 


THE   ISLAND    OF    ROCKS  35 

laugh  at  it.      I  scorn  it.      I  even  forgive  you  for  say- 
ing it." 

"  Well  you  might,  if  you  knowed  all  there  was  in 
my  heart  for  you.  'Twas  only  a  pang  brought  the 
word  out.  I  dare  say  'tis  a  lie.  He's  a  good  man 
very  like.      I  wish  to  God  I  was  so  good." 

"  I  always  thought  you  was  good." 

"  Forget  what  1  said." 

"  Nothing  easier.  'Tis  no  more  to  me  than  last 
year's  bad  weather.  Go  about  your  business  now, 
and  let  me  set  on  mine." 

"  'Tis  my  only  happiness  left  that  you'm  happv." 

"  Very  well  then.  Make  me  happier  by  getting 
out  of  my  sight." 

He  returned  to  his  cart  and  began  to  pack  the  peat 
cakes  into  it.  She  sat  with  her  thoughts  working,  as 
the  storm  wind  works  on  the  cloud.  In  her  eyes  the 
Valley  of  Rocks  was  mirrored.  The  word  uttered  had 
indeed  been  matter  for  scorn  and  laughter ;  but  when 
the  laughter  ceased  and  the  scorn  turned  cold,  some- 
thing remained.  She  was  a  proud  woman,  and  the 
defects  common  to  her  qualities  she  did  not  lack.  In 
her  hot  and  loving  heart  existed  ample  room  for  jeal- 
ousy. It  occurred  to  her  that  Wolferstan  had  lived 
for  thirty  years  before  he  heard  her  name.  He  was 
very  handsome.  He  had  confessed  to  friendship  with 
his  former  master's  daughter. 

The  day  smiled  clear  and  cool,  touched  with  hazes 
of  east  wind,  that  tempered  the  sunlight  but  cast  no 
shadow.  This  aerial  condition  brought  the  huge  com- 
position of  nature  together,  in  a  translucent  and  lilac 
light  that  leavened,  without  altering,  the  proper  colours 
here  harmoniously  mingled.  The  brooding  eyes  of  the 
woman  saw  Oke  plunge  through  a  glen  beneath  and 
part  into  twin  cascades  that  foamed  away  to  right  and 
left  of  an  island.     Set  in  a  ring  of  broken  and  danc- 


36  THE    PORTREEVE 

ing  water,  this  islet  shone.  Trees,  shrubs,  grasses, 
ferns  and  plutonic  rocks  were  cast  together  here  in 
the  lap  of  the  hills,  like  a  single  jewel  of  many  verdant 
hues  —  of  sallow  silvery  and  glittering  birch,  of  golden 
green  rowan  and  glaucous  fern  already  touched  to  sud- 
den gold  in  splashes.  The  grey  boulders  shone  between; 
their  granite  ruled  the  living  things,  spread  in  tables, 
jutted  in  peaks  and  finally  massed  into  a  tumult  and 
riot  of  lovely  rock  forms,  where  the  river  joined  her 
arms  again,  and  peeped  and  twinkled  amid  mighty 
stones,  with  spout  and  thread  and  glassy  convexity  of 
prisoned  light.  Below  were  pools,  little  beaches  of 
sand,  and  bogs  dripping  to  the  edge  of  the  river,  all 
lighted  by  the  lamps  of  the  asphodel ;  brightened  by 
the  red  rosettes  of  the  sundew,  and  the  tiny  butter- 
wort's  livid  leaves ;  made  beautiful  by  the  pimpernel 
and  the  least  bell-flower  where  they  twined  their  pink 
and  azure  together.  The  water-ousel  bobbed  beside 
the  river  and,  aloft,  the  ring-ousel  uttered  a  note,  like 
the  striking  of  flints,  and  showed  his  sooty  plumage 
and  the  white  half-moon  upon  his  neck.  Far  distant 
on  steep  places,  many  rivulets  flashed  sun-messages  as 
they  leapt  downwards  to  join  the  river.  Their  glint 
and  movement  added  life  to  the  texture  of  the  moun- 
tain side ;  while  branches  also  waved,  dead  grasses 
shivered  in  paley  sheets  of  light  upon  the  open  spaces ; 
and  brake-fern  threw  a  slow  movement  of  brightness 
over  the  hollows.  Seen  close,  their  spring  and  motion 
was  very  rrianifest.  Every  tall  stem  swayed  an  inch  or 
two,  carrying  the  waves  of  light  as  corn  carries  them ; 
and  each  upspringing  frond  had  worn  a  hole  in  the 
herbage  under  pressure  of  varying  winds. 

A  faint  and  faded  radiance  still  spread  upon  the 
western  hills,  where  the  ling  now  died ;  and  above 
them,  in  shapes  uncouth  and  monstrous,  here  huddled 
close,  here  scattered  wide,  like  a  herd  of  feeding  dino- 


THE   ISLAND    OF   ROCKS  37 

saurs  or  dragons  from  the  earth's  morning,  there  tow- 
ered the  hooded  battlements  and  masses  of  Shilstone 
Tor.  With  tumultuous  outlines  it  broke  the  sky,  and 
behind  it,  higher  still,  in  shape  of  greater  simplicity, 
the  bosom  of  Corn  Ridge  flung  its  huge  curve. 
Wrapped  in  a  milky  lustre  as  of  pearl,  it  ascended  and 
sank  from  south  to  north,  and  only  one  dim  detail 
crowned  the  summit,  where  stood  the  tumulus  of  a 
stone  man's  grave. 

Now  all  this  gathered  ripeness  and  fruition  waited, 
in  the  brief  splendour  of  autumn,  for  the  rain  to  drown 
it  and  the  frost  to  destroy.  The  pageant  waxed  as  the 
year  waned.  Soaking  desolation  was  near  that  would 
end  all  ;  winds  were  waking  that  would  tear  their  gold 
from  birch  and  ash,  and  send  it  whirling,  on  a  thou- 
sand eddies  of  air  and  water,  hurled  by  the  elements 
back  to  the  elements  again. 

Ilet  stared  at  the  Island  of  Rocks,  but  saw  nothing. 
She  was  not  in  tune  with  Nature's  mood,  and  neither 
perceived  nor  shared  it.  A  great  dragon-fly  hawking 
beside  her,  startled  her  out  of  thought  by  the  sudden 
rustle  of  its  gauzes;  then  she  sank  back  into  her  mind 
again.  For  once  the  waters  that  ran  among  the  hills 
had  no  voice  for  her,  no  power  to  sweeten  the  corners 
of  her  thought.  This  crude  poison  stole  into  her  crude 
spirit,  and  her  unsophisticated  heart  began  to  suffer. 
The  simplest,  primal  emotions  awoke.  Contagion 
worked  swiftly  in  this  pure  environment,  as  the  evil 
germ  fastens  first  on  a  healthy  subject  brought  within 
its  reach.  Great  love  will  always  smother  weak  prin- 
ciples, and  now,  all  unused  to  man's  way,  Ilet  writhed 
at  this  sudden  shadow  from  her  sweetheart's  past,  but 
did  not  yield  to  it.  Finally  she  flung  the  thought  from 
her  with  resolution,  and  rose  to  go  about  her  business. 

She  picked  at  the  whortleberries  for  some  brief  while, 
then  gave  it  up  and  sat  down  again.     Presently  Abel 


38  THE    PORTREEVE 

Pierce  returned   to   her   before    he  started  with  a  full 
cart. 

"  You'm  not  working,"  he  said.  "  Don't  sit  here 
so  glum  and  wretched.  No  man's  all  a  loving  woman 
thinks  him.  I  didn't  mean  more  than  that — not 
much  more.  At  least  look  at  it  from  my  side  too. 
I  knowed  that  when  I  spoke  I  must  anger  you  ;  but 
I'd  rather  do  even  that  than  see  your  life  ruined." 

She  stared  in  front  of  her  and  made  no  answer.  So 
he  left  her  and  she  heard  his  cart  creak  and  jolt  away. 
Then  she  began  to  pick  the  wild  fruits  again.  But 
the  monotony  of  this  task  was  more  than  her  mind 
could  endure.  She  emptied  her  can  of  its  purple, 
took  her  basket  and  started  to  tramp  home. 

Far  off,  unseen,  Abel  saw  her  go,  and  understood. 
She  was  a  woman  with  a  large  heart  —  built  in  one 
chamber.  Room  there  was  for  a  single  mastering  in- 
terest, but  her  mind  lacked  machinery  to  weigh,  to 
contrast,  or  to  calculate. '  If  he  could  separate  her 
from  Dodd  Wolferstan,  she  would  not  go  back  to 
him.  Half  idly,  half  deliberately,  half  with  intention 
and  half  by  the  accident  of  the  opportunity.  Pierce 
had  called  up  a  legend  long  dead.  It  was  a  lie  and 
never  had  received  much  attention,  save  from  the 
baser  sort  who  love  to  smear  dirt  across  a  good  name. 
But  a  thing  ridiculed  at  the  time  might  be  revived  to 
some  purpose  now.  The  mother  of  the  girl  who  had 
drowned  herself  in  Bude  Canal  still  lived,  and  still 
swore  that  Wolferstan  was  the  seducer.  As  for  Abel, 
he  felt  no  shame  in  reviving  the  falsehood.  He  very 
easily  made  himself  believe  it,  and  so  justified  his  con- 
duct to  his  conscience.  He  pretended  with  himself 
that  he  was  doing  right ;  and  secretly  the  animal  in 
him  hoped  that  as  a  result  of  that  bad  day's  work, 
there  might  fall  blows  between  himself  and  the  wronged 
man.     He  itched  to   deliver   them,  to    fight  for    the 


THE    ISLAND    OF    ROCKS 


39 


woman  and  make  good  his  claim,  as  the  hart  wins 
the  hind.  A  subtler  course,  however,  awaited  him. 
Days  were  at  hand  that  would  see  him  suffer  blows, 
not  strike  them,  and  reach  his  object  by  submission 
rather  than  assault. 


CHAPTER   V 


PRIMROSE    HORN 


THE  farm  of  Bowden  was  situated  on  lofty  ground 
near  the  Moor  edge ;  and  South  Down,  the  hill 
that  rose  before  Pierce's  cottage  by  Oke,  formed 
its  northern  boundary.  Beyond  certain  woods  that 
crowned  this  height,  the  farmhouse  itself  stood  and 
looked  due  west  over  Tamar  to  the  high  lands  of 
Cornwall. 

Now,  on  a  Sunday  morning,  the  daughter  of  the 
house  made  a  special  toilet  at  an  hour  but  little  earlier 
than  noon.  Her  parents  were  worshipping  in  Bridget- 
stowe  ;  the  dwelling-place  was  silent  and  the  hour  was 
still.  Sunshine  streamed  into  Primrose's  bedroom 
where  she  sat  in  a  pale  blue  dressing-gown,  doing  her 
hair.  On  the  table  in  front  of  her  lay  a  fashion-plate, 
showing  some  new  mode  of  coiffure ;  and  she  had 
arranged  looking-glasses  so  that  she  might  appreciate 
the  effect  she  was  creating.  Her  hands  were  lifted 
above  her  head  ;  in  her  mouth  was  a  thick  lock  of 
hair,  and  her  teeth  showed  over  it.  Her  beautiful 
neck  bent  towards  the  left-hand  glass  and  her  eyes 
were  turned  to  another.  Presently  she  lowered  one 
hand  very  carefully  to  pick  up  a  hairpin ;  but  the 
mound  of  hair,  like  a  little,  shining  barley-mow,  fell 
suddenly  in  a  great  tumbled  mass  shot  with  sunshine. 
The  work  of  five  minutes  was  spoiled  and  her  bright 
tresses  dropped  in  a  flood  around  her. 

"  Devil  take  the  thing,"  she  said  out  loud.     Then 

40 


PRIMROSE    HORN  41 

she  shook  her  eyes  clear  and  began  to  study  the  pic- 
ture again.  While  she  perused  the  subtleties  of  an 
ugly  head-dress,  her  fingers  played  with  the  hairpin 
she  had  picked  up  and  twisted  it  this  way  and  that, 
until  it  broke  in  half. 

Primrose  was  eight-and-twenty,  but  the  fact  did  not 
appear,  and  she  carefully  concealed  it.  She  belonged 
to  the  blonde  type  of  women  who  are  lovely  as  flowers 
in  their  June,  yet  Time  too  often  is  hard  with  them 
afterwards.  Alexander  Horn  was  exceedingly  stout, 
but  salvation  for  his  daughter  came  through  her 
mother's  blood.  Mrs.  Horn  lacked  any  figure 
worthy  of  the  name  and  wore  well. 

Primrose  was  superbly  fashioned  and  her  athletic  life 
kept  her  within  the  magic  of  absolute  loveliness.  Still 
she  looked  ahead  anxiously.  Her  face  was  a  little  worn 
with  the  physical  exercise  she  took.  She  was  rather 
under  the  middle  height,  and  her  soft,  rich  contours 
concealed  small  bones,  but  surprisingly  hard  muscles. 
Only  herself  and  her  horse  knew  the  physical  strength 
in  her  arms.  She  had  seen  men  do  things  and,  in 
secret,  surprised  herself  to  find  their  exploits  not 
beyond  her  own  power. 

She  was  all  woman,  loved  admiration,  loved  ease, 
and  loved  praise.  With  the  successes  of  a  country 
girl  she  had  been  long  familiar.  Her  courage,  her 
skill  in  horsemanship  and  her  knowledge  of  the  coun- 
try enabled  her  to  achieve  great  sporting  triumphs. 
She  had  hunted  since  the  fearless  age  of  childhood, 
and,  with  years,  her  nerve  never  faltered.  Yet  behind 
it  lay  self-control  and  judgment.  She  took  no  need- 
less risks. 

This  woman's  beauty  was  arrestlve.  Her  face  had 
small  features,  but  the  grey  eyes  were  large  and  lus- 
trous. Her  mouth  was  frankly  Greek  and  of  an 
unusual  brilliance.     Her  gaze   could  be    subdued   to 


42  THE    PORTREEVE 

bewitching  softness  and  her  voice  possessed  none  of 
that  hard  intonation  common  in  the  out-of-door  girl. 
There  was  nothing  about  her  that  aped  the  male.  No 
sequestered  houri  ever  cooed  more  gently.  She  even 
sounded  a  note  of  helplessness  sometimes,  and  it  made 
strangers  seek  occasion  to  aid  her.  Young  men  often 
struggled  to  give  her  a  lead ;  and  the  spectacle  brought 
much  amusement  to  those  who  knew  Primrose  in  the 
hunting  field.  It  was  a  favourite  story  that  she  had 
once  shown  the  Master  of  the  North  Devon  Fox- 
hounds over  a  Dartmoor  river.  His  name  was 
Orlando  Slanning  —  a  noisy  youth  with  more  money 
than  brains,  and  more  good  looks  than  either.  But 
the  sportsman  quickly  forgave  Primrose  and  was  now 
among  her  admirers. 

Next  to  riding  and  driving.  Miss  Horn  best  liked 
the  exercise  of  walking.  She  was  a  good  Moorwoman, 
and  enjoyed  the  life  she  had  led  ;  but  her  enthusiasm 
for  it  diminished  as  she  grew  older.  Her  days  were 
uneventful.  Sometimes  she  said  that  a  row  of  cinna- 
mon brushes  with  white  tips  represented  the  best  the 
world  had  given  her.  Certain  minor  romances  had 
lightened  her  existence,  but  only  one  —  with  a  fair  and 
comely  young  doctor — personally  interested  Primrose. 
He  had  broken  his  neck  on  Dartmoor  during  the  year 
that  Dodd  Wolferstan  came  to  Bowden  as  bailiff. 

She  liked  good  looks  in  the  male,  and  amused  her- 
self with  ideas  about  men.  Now  certain  matters  were 
afoot,  and  she  intended  to  marry.  This  morning  she 
tired  her  hair  for  two  visitors  who  were  coming  to 
midday  dinner.  One  her  heart  hungered  for  and  had 
long  desired  ;  the  other  desired  her. 

Much  common-sense  and  the  sportswoman's  gift  of 
patience  belonged  to  her.  She  had  also  strength  and 
intensity  of  purpose.  The  woman  pretended  to  no 
social  ambitions  and  kept  within  her  class,  albeit  she 


PRIMROSE   HORN 


43 


might  have  ascended  out  of  it.  Certain  younger  sons 
had  made  frantic  overtures  on  more  than  one  occasion  ; 
but  they  were  snubbed.  She  had  a  knack  of  appear- 
ing at  meet  just  as  hounds  went  to  cover,  and  vanishing 
with  the  end  of  the  sport. 

Of  the  two    men    now    approaching    Bowden,  one " 
chanced  to  be  that  Orlando  Slanning  already  mentioned  ; 
the  other  was  the  Portreeve  of  Bridgetstowe. 

No  emotional  passage  had  been  exchanged  between 
Alexander  Horn's  daughter  and  either  of  these  men. 
In  the  matter  of  Slanning,  the  love  was  all  on  his  side, 
and  he  had  been  twice  rejected  ;  in  Wolferstan's  case 
the  tenderness  rested  with  her,  and,  though  the  veil 
was  gently  lifted  once  or  twice  before  he  left  Bowden, 
his  steadfast  eyes,  set  on  other  things,  had  failed  to 
understand  her  meaning,  or  guess  her  regard.  She 
was  not  angry  with  him,  for  he  had  not  slighted  her. 
He  had  merely  missed  the  possibility  she  indicated. 
There  was  no  immediate  hurry.  Such  sensuous  love 
as  she  could  feel  went  out  to  Dodd  Wolferstan.  She 
liked  the  clean,  brisk,  handsome  body  of  him  ;  the 
high  colour  of  him  ;  the  voice  of  him  ;  his  courage, 
wisdom,  and  even  his  religious  faith  in  the  principles 
and  dogmas  of  that  church  on  which  he  trusted.  She 
knew  he  had  a  temper  too,  and  would  dominate.  The 
belief  that  he  must  be  strong  enough  to  control  her 
held  some  fascination  in  it.  She  had  met  no  other 
man  who  could  be  trusted  to  do  so.  His  battle  with 
life  also  interested  her.  His  dignity  and  self-dependence 
seemed  remarkable  in  a  workhouse  boy.  He  had  con- 
fided to  her  his  own  hopes  and  aspirations ;  but  his 
ambition  of  ancestors  she  held  a  weakness — almost 
his  only  one. 

Her  life  was  unsettled  and  not  happy  since  he  had 
left  Bowden.  She  pictured  herself  his  wife  presently, 
and  sometimes  she  pretended  with  herself  that  he  was 


44  THE    PORTREEVE 

waiting  to  win  a  position  that  would  warrant  a  proposal. 
But  common-sense  laughed  at  this  conceit.  She  knew 
in  reality  that  he  loved  her  not  at  all  ;  yet,  since  he 
loved  nobody  else,  she  supposed  he  might  be  brought 
finally  to  love  her  if  she  played  her  part.  Upon 
this  conviction  there  had  come  the  startling  news 
that  Dodd  was  engaged  to  an  extremely  humble 
girl  at  Sourton.  Only  love  could  have  led  him 
into  such  an  error — and  a  very  gigantic  love  — 
because  Wolferstan  had  often  spoken  in  the  past  of 
marriage  and  the  vital  factor  a  wife  must  be  in  the 
existence  of  any  struggling,  rising  man.  Primrose 
remembered  the  occasion  of  that  sentiment  and  the 
tremor  that  had  come  to  her  while  he  spoke.  But  his 
bright,  loveless  eyes  always  acted  like  ice  on  her  own 
secret  heat.  Now  she  wondered  if  their  expression 
had  changed  and  he  had  looked  softly  upon  this 
maiden.  She  had  considered  the  situation  in  all  its 
bearings  and  taken  the  trouble  to  glean  particulars 
concerning  Ilet.  The  matter  filled  her  life.  She  felt 
no  sympathy  for  any  but  herself,  and  hope  was  not 
dead  when  she  considered  the  mean  nature  of  this 
engagement.  She  imagined  possibilities,  remembered 
the  old  rumour  concerning  Minnie  Masters ;  knew 
that  it  was  a  lie  ;  wished  that  it  had  been  true  ;  doubted 
whether  it  would  influence  a  sane  woman  in  any  case. 
When  Dodd  left  Bowden,  she  had  determined  to  keep 
in  touch  with  him  and  never  let  him  quite  stray  be- 
yond the  influence  of  the  farm  and  those  therein. 
She  had  expected  that  as  years  passed  and  Wolferstan 
began  to  consider  the  importance  of  a  wife,  he  would 
probably  look  upon  her  in  a  new  light.  Now,  how- 
ever, he  had  both  sought  and  found  elsewhere.  It 
might  already  be  too  late  to  turn  him.  As  Abel 
Pierce  reflected  upon  the  woman,  so  now  Primrose 
considered   the    man.     Wolferstan    had   already   been 


PRIMROSE    HORN 


45 


engaged  for  two  months,  and  it  was  not  through  him 
but  another  that  she  learned  the  news.  She  held  this 
a  good  rather  than  a  bad  sign.  It  argued  a  little  un- 
easiness in  his  mind,  a  possible  sub-consciousness  that 
he  had  not  acted  wisely.  But  again  her  common- 
sense  tore  to  tatters  this  flimsy  fancy,  for  the  fact  that 
he  had  not  mentioned  his  engagement  showed  the  ex- 
ceedingly slight  significance  in  his  own  opinion  of  his 
friendship  with  Bowden. 

To-day,  however,  he  was  coming  to  dinner,  and  the 
matter  of  his  engagement  must  be  touched  upon. 
His  happiness  did  not  enter  into  her  calculations ; 
only  her  own  concerned  her.  Him  she  could  not 
force  into  matrimony  ;  but  at  the  bottom  of  her  hot 
heart  was  a  chilly  resolution  as  yet  scarcely  revealed  to 
herself.  Primrose  meant  that  if  she  did  not  marry 
him,  no  other  woman  should. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  she  dressed  her  wonderful  hair 
and  put  on  her  Sunday  gown.  It  consisted  of  a  dark 
skirt  and  showy  silk  blouse.  Over  this  there  fell  a 
deep  lace  collar. 

She  was  in  the  parlour  five  minutes  before  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Horn  drove  home  from  Bridgetstowe,  and 
noted  that  Dodd  Wolferstan  sat  in  the  back  of  the 
Bowden  vehicle.  Her  parents  had  picked  him  up 
after  church.  The  other  visitor  was  also  of  the 
company.  Young  Slanning,  who  came  on  horseback, 
had  overtaken  the  dogcart  returning.  Orlando  was  a 
rich  miller's  son  and  dwelt  at  his  home  near  Bridget- 
stowe. Of  late  life  took  a  serious  turn  with  him,  for 
his  father  was  dying  of  cancer.  Soon  he  must  bear  on 
his  own  shoulders  the  burden  of  '  Slanning's,'  as  the 
mill  was  called. 

The  horseman  rode  a  neatcob  and  looked  exceedingly 
well  upon  it.  He  was  handsome,  after  an  obvious 
fashion,  with  large  regular  features,  fine  eyes,  curling 


46  THE    PORTREEVE 

black  hair,  neat  moustache  and  big  rosy  mouth  that 
seldom  lacked  a  cigar  in  the  corner  of  it.  Primrose 
rather  admired  him  ;  his  abundant  energy  interested 
her  and  his  vanity  caused  her  amusement.  But  while 
Wolferstan  poured  out  his  strength  and  manhood  in 
self-advancement  and  the  proper  work  of  the  world, 
young  Slanning  lived  only  for  pleasure  and  to  spend  a 
better  man's  money.  His  father  had  spoiled  him 
since  his  childhood,  and  now  reaped  the  reward  in 
mental  anxiety  which  added  a  gloom  to  his  death-bed. 
Orlando,  having  tried  a  merchant's  office  for  one  year 
and  declared  that  his  health  could  not  stand  the  direful 
strain  of  London,  had  abandoned  business  and  turned 
to  a  sportsman's  pursuits.  He  possessed  no  talent, 
and  least  of  all  the  talent  for  hard  work.  He  was  wax 
in  the  hand  of  any  man  or  woman  of  character,  but 
entertained  a  lively  conceit  of  himself,  and  honestly 
imagined  that  few  young  fellows  of  six-and-twenty  had 
justified  their  existence  more  handsomely.  He  patron- 
ised everybody  save  Alexander  Horn  ;  but  the  stout, 
taciturn  farmer,  in  that  he  was  father  of  Primrose, 
always  won  a  civility  absurdly  obvious  by  comparison 
with  Slanning's  usual  cubbish  manners.  As  Master  of 
the  North  Devon  Foxhounds,  he  had  annoyed  most 
men  without  humour,  amused  those  who  possessed  it, 
and  won  the  indifferent  contempt  of  both  classes.  Yet 
he  possessed  virtues.  He  was  generous,  and  good- 
tempered  save  where  his  vanity  happened  to  be 
threatened.  He  sought  a  new  thing  hourly,  and  for 
the  moment  found  himself  keenly  attracted  by  the 
operations  of  the  local  yeomanry.  He  had  secured  a 
commission  in  this  force  and  now  went  under  the 
delusion  that  he  was  a  military  man.  He  spoke 
of  "  the  service "  and  affected  the  company  of 
soldiers. 

Primrose  greeted  both  guests  and  shook  hands  with 


PRIMROSE    HORN  47 

them.  She  observed  that  Mr.  Slanning  had  taken  to 
an  eyeglass  since  .their  last  meeting.  He  fought  with 
this  from  time  to  time,  and  held  it  in  his  right  eye 
after  a  fashion  that  he  believed  to  be  martial, 

"  Morning,  Miss  Horn.  I've  got  a  big  crow  to 
pick  with  you,"  he  began.  "Yes  —  really.  Never 
once  —  never  once  did  you  come  to  the  camp  when  we 
were  under  canvas  at  Hey  Tor." 

"  'Tis  such  a  way.  But  I  thought  of  you  and  was 
glad  you  had  fine  weather." 

"  By  Jove  —  wet  or  fine,  it's  all  one  in  camp,  I  can 
tell  you.  Work  —  nothing  but  work  from  reveille  to 
dark.     And  night  attacks  too  !  " 

"  What  a  hero  !  "  she  said,  then  turned  to  Wolferstan. 

Slanning  took  his  horse  to  the  stable,  and  Primrose 
was  left  for  a  moment  with  the  Portreeve. 

"  But  this  is  great  news  !  Why  ever  didn't  you  tell 
me,  Dodd  ?  "  she  began  at  once. 

"  I  ought  to  have.  I'm  much  to  blame.  But  I  was 
going  to  to-day." 

"  We  have  only  heard  the  bare  fact.  What  is  her 
name  ?  Where  does  she  live  ?  Is  she  very  pretty  ? 
Do  I  know  her  .?  " 

"She's  called  Ilet  —  Ilet  Yelland  —  and  she  lives 
with  her  aunt  at  Sourton." 

"  Old  Susan  Yelland  !  She  used  to  work  at  —  I 
know  whom  you  mean." 

"And  she  is  pretty  —  very  —  at  least,  I  think  so; 
and  you  don't  know  her,  but  I  hope  you  soon  will. 
Now  all  your  questions  are  answered." 

"  I've  fifty  more.     Dark  or  fair?  " 

"  Dark." 

"May  I  ask  her  age  ?  " 

"  Twenty-three." 

She  shook  his  hand  warmly  and  pressed  it. 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  very,  very  happy,  Dodd." 


48  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Primrose.  But  I  must 
be.      I  can't  realise  my  wonderful  fortune  yet." 

Suddenly  Miss  Horn  gave  a  gasp,  produced  a 
handkerchief,  put  it  to  her  eyes  and  rushed  away  from 
him  into  the  house. 

He  stared  uneasily  and  was  glad  that  nobody  had 
seen  her.  At  dinner  she  appeared  calm,  smiling, 
bright  as  usual. 

Mr.  Horn  carved  the  beef.  He  was  a  blonde,  fat 
man  of  sixty,  and  his  daughter  had  received  her  wide 
grey  eyes  from  him.  As  a  cattle-breeder  the  farmer 
claimed  an  honourable  position  in  the  West  Country 
and  beyond  it.  His  name  was  responsible  for  many 
stupid  jests  among  those  familiar  with  the  matter  of 
short  horns  and  long  horns.  Mr.  Horn  ate  beef  as 
he  bred  it:  with  judgment.  He  spoke  not  a  word 
until  the  sirloin,  Yorkshire  pudding  and  vegetables 
had  gone.  Then  he  picked  his  teeth  with  a  gold  pin 
which  he  kept  stuck  in  the  lappet  of  his  waistcoat  for 
that  purpose,  nodded  to  himself  once  or  twice,  and 
poured  out  a  glass  of  ale. 

His  wife  was  not  a  great  talker,  but  far  less  silent 
than  her  husband.  Orlando  Slanning,  however,  enjoyed 
the  company  of  silent  people,  since,  after  hounds,  his 
own  voice  was  the  music  that  he  best  loved.  He 
prattled  now  of  the  yeomanry,  now  of  manoeuvres,  now 
of  what  would  happen  to  the  War  Department  if  he 
was  made  head  of  it.  He  appeared  recently  to  have 
studied  printed  pages  —  a  very  unusual  performance 
with  him. 

"  I  do  believe  you've  read  a  book  !  "  cried  Primrose. 
"  Father,  Mr.  Slanning's  read  a  book  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  the  farmer. 

"  Of  course  —  that's  why  you  bought  the  eyeglass, 
wasn't  it  ? " 

Orlando  smiled  at  her  question. 


PRIMROSE    HORN 


49 


tt 


I  say,  that's  too  bad  —  really." 

"  I'm  sure  I  hope  your  sight  isn't  giving  you  any 
trouble,"  said  Mrs.  Horn  kindly.  She  was  a  faded, 
brown,  thin  woman,  with  gentle  eyes.  By  some  trick 
of  atavism  she  had  developed  a  strong  sentimentality 
and  an  immature  feeling  for  art.  These  peculiarities 
she  kept  to  herself  They  took  the  humble  form  of 
admiring  flowers  or  sunsets,  and  reading  such  scraps 
of  poetry  as  occurred  in  the  local  journal.  They  also 
appeared  in  the  exceedingly  inappropriate  name  that 
she  had  given  to  her  daughter.  She  went  and  came 
like  a  shadow,  and  dominated  the  scene  no  more  than 
some  faint,  ever-present  picture  hung  upon  the  wall. 

"  Nothing  serious  —  really.  Just  to  help  me  to  see 
what  my  fellows  are  doing  sometimes  on  field  days." 

"  You  manage  it  capitally,"  said  Primrose.  "  I 
should  like  to  have  a  photograph  of  you  with  that  in 
your  eye." 

"  I  say  !  would  you  ?  Then  you  shall  —  the  very 
next  time  I'm  in  Plymouth.  In  my  mess  jacket  — 
eh?      It's  rather " 

"Eat  your  pudden,"  said  Mr.  Horn,  "else  leave  it. 
We've  all  done." 

The  farmer  and  his  wife  respected  Dodd  Wolferstan 
and  Mrs.  Horn  knew  that  Primrose  did  more  than 
respect  him.  At  one  time,  before  their  bailiff  left 
them,  the  parents  had  discussed  him  as  a  possible 
husband  for  their  only  child.  But  Dodd  departed  to 
pursue  his  life's  story  elsewhere,  and  the  persistent 
Slanning  became  more  and  more  apparent.  Like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  Alexander  Horn  perceived  that  he 
was  but  a  slight  man ;  nevertheless,  he  now  wanted 
Orlando  for  his  daughter  and  was  doing  what  he  could 
to  help  the  match.  He  knew  the  young  miller's  weak- 
ness, but  he  also  knew  his  own  child's  strength,  and 
felt  satisfied  that,  once  married,  Primrose  would  take 


50  THE    PORTREEVE 

the  whip  hand  as  a  matter  of  course.  Orlando  was 
the  sort  of  youth  (so  the  farmer  beHeved)  whose  career 
depended  more  upon  his  wife's  character  than  his  own. 
He  was  weak,  not  in  the  least  wicked.  Moreover,  he 
must  soon  be  very  comfortably  off. 

After  dinner  the  men  walked  in  the  garden  and 
Primrose  went  with  them  ;  but  Mrs.  Horn  stayed  in- 
doors, put  up  her  feet  and  read  Keble. 

Dodd  was  called  to  leave  Bowden  in  a  short  while, 
that  he  might  get  back  to  Bridgetstowe  for  his  class. 
After  noon  on  Sundays  he  gathered  a  company  of  lads 
about  him  and  taught  them  what  he  knew  concerning 
conduct  and  religion.  He  instilled  much  of  his  own 
enthusiastic  and  devout  faith  into  the  hearts  of  younger 
men  ;  and  he  enjoyed  the  work. 

Primrose  Horn  walked  with  the  Portreeve  as  far  as 
Bowden  gate ;  and  while  they  were  absent  Mr.  Slan- 
ning  talked  to  the  farmer.  They  sat  together  in  a 
little  summer-house,  and  Orlando  did  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"  Awfully  lovely  she  is.  The  belle  of  the  country- 
side easily.  Not  a  girl  within  miles  of  her.  And  such 
a  seat!  I've  heard  experienced  men  from  the  shires 
say  they  never  saw  a  woman  quite  so  absolutely  perfect 
on  horseback  —  really.  And  her  pluck !  But  I 
needn't  tell  you  these  things,  because  if  you  don't  know 
'em,  who  should  ?  But,  all  the  same,  I  don't  think  you 
and  Mrs.  Horn  quite  realise  what  a  wonder  she  is. 
And  how  good  !  —  her  goodness  is  terrific.  But  you 
live  with  her  and  have  got  accustomed  to  it.  But  the 
rest  of  the  world  is  awfully  keen  about  it.  I  wish  to 
God  she'd  take  a  fancy  to  me  —  to  God  I  wish  it !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Horn. 

Then  Orlando  rolled  on  again.  He  chattered  with- 
out intermission  for  five  minutes,  and  as  his  remarks 
were    now  transferred    from    Primrose,  and    occupied 


PRIMROSE    HORN  51 

with  his  own  ambitions  for  the  future  and  achieve- 
ments in  the  past,  the  young  man's  tongue  flew  swiftly 
and  his  statements  increased  in  splendour.  He  sur- 
prised himself  with  the  brilliant  case  he  put ;  and  he 
only  ceased  speaking  when  a  gentle,  inarticulate  sound 
revealed  the  fact  that  Alexander  Horn  had  gone  to 
sleep.  The  farmer's  hands  were  folded  over  his 
stomach ;  his  legs  were  extended  before  him ;  the 
lower  buttons  of  his  waistcoat  were  unfastened. 

Orlando,  muttering  a  word  expressive  of  annoyance, 
jumped  up  and  went  to  meet  Primrose,  who  was  now 
returning.  Reduced  to  a  speck,  Wolferstan  strode 
along  the  way  westerly. 

"  Good,  worthy  chap,  that,"  said  Slanning,  who 
suspected  Miss  Horn's  weakness.  "  What  a  glutton 
for  work  !  And  anxious  to  do  good  in  his  parochial 
way.  Really  a  very  decent  fellow  —  considering  how 
he's  raised  himself." 

"  I'm  glad  you  admire  him,"  she  said. 

"  Rather — we're  very  good  friends." 

"  He  would  like  to  hear  your  opinion,  I  think.  It 
might  change  his  own  view." 

"  He's  a  humble  beggar  —  eh  ?  " 

"  His  own  view  of  you,  I  mean ;  not  his  view  of 
himself" 

"  His  view  of  me  !  "  exclaimed  Orlando,  shaken 
from  complacency ;  "  has  he  got  a  view  of  me  ? 
Rather  cheek —  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king ;  a  Portreeve  may  form 
an  opinion  of  a  miller's  son." 

"  I  hate  you  to  call  me  a  miller's  son  !  " 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know :  it  sounds  so  feeble." 

"It's  true  —  as  true  as  I  am  a  farmer's  daughter. 
I  suppose  you'll  be  a  full-blown  miller  yourself 
presently,  when  your  father  dies." 


52  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Worse  luck !  But  what  did  young  Wolferstan 
say  of  me  ?  " 

"  '  Young  Wolferstan  ! '  He's  years  older  than  you 
are. 

"To  my  wider  experience  of  life  he  seems  young  — 
almost  a  boy." 

"  We  can't  all  have  your  immense  advantages.  As 
you  ask,  I  may  tell  you  that,  when  mentioning  you,  he 
said  '  poor  Slanning.'  " 

Orlando  stared  with  real  astonishment. 

"  Not  even  '  mister  '  ?  " 

"  No  ;  just  '  poor  Slanning,'  in  a  particularly  kind 
tone  of  voice." 

"  *  Poor  Slanning  ' !  *  Poor  Slanning  ' !  What  the 
deuce  did  he  mean  ?  I  could  buy  him  up  a  hundred 
times  over." 

"Of  course  you  could." 

"  Then  what ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  my  dear  man." 

"  *  Poor  Slanning.'     The  fellow's  a  fool !  " 

"  He  couldn't  mean  money.  He  knows  that  you 
are  rich  —  for  a  miller's  son." 

"  If  he  didn't  mean  money,  what  did  he  mean  ? " 

She  abstained  from  enlightening  him. 

"  I'm  not  pleased,"  continued  Orlando.  "  I  shan't 
forgive  that  in  a  hurry.  You  oughtn't  to  be  so  jolly 
friendly  with  these  low  people." 

"I  don't  think  I  ought  —  really,"  she  answered, 
mimicking  him  to  his  face.  Then  she  awakened  Mr. 
Horn  by  kissing  her  parent's  pendulous  cheek. 

Slanning  turned  away  both  puzzled  and  annoyed. 

"  Damn  the  man  !  "  he  thought. 


I 


CHAPTER   VI 


LINTS    TOR 


THREE  days  later  chance  sent  Miss  Horn  to 
Okehampton.  She  drove  a  dogcart  and  was 
alone  save  for  the  company  of  two  young  chil- 
dren. She  had  overtaken  the  little  things  on  their  way 
to  school  and,  since  the  morning  was  wet  and  their 
struggles  with  an  old  umbrella  unavailing,  had  stopped 
and  picked  up  the  boy  and  girl,  who  were  known  to  her. 

As  they  proceeded  at  an  increased  pace,  they  came 
suddenly  within  sight  of  a  traction-engine  which  trav- 
elled toward  them  ;  but  the  driver,  concerned  with  his 
own  affairs,  did  not  see  that  Primrose  had  held  up  her 
hand.  Her  young  horse  was  timid  and  now  he 
flinched,  broke  out  of  his  trot,  and  became  unmanage- 
able at  the  sound  of  the  snorting  engine.  Miss  Horn 
cried  to  a  man  who  was  leaning  over  a  gate  by  the 
way,  and,  turning,  he  hastened  into  the  road  and 
shouted  to  the  driver  of  the  locomotive.  A  moment 
later  it  stopped  and  after  much  persuasion  and  patience, 
Primrose,  with  the  help  of  Abel  Pierce,  succeeded  in 
getting  her  steed  past  the  engine  and  the  trucks  behind 
it.  A  hot  puff  of  oily  air  came  from  this  monster,  and 
the  horse  shivered  and  snorted  until  he  was  clear  of  it. 

"  Lucky  I  met  you.  Pierce,"  said  Primrose,  who 
knew  the  labourer  as  an  occasional  worker  at  Bowden. 
"Who's  that  fool  on  the  engine?  He  ought  to  lose 
his  job." 

"  'Tis  Sam   Brown,  miss.     There'll  be  an  accident 

53 


54  THE    PORTREEVE 

some  day.  He's  a  sorrowful  man,  an'  always  brooding, 
an'  ain't  got  very  good  sight  neither.  They  dear  little 
childer  too  !  " 

"Well,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  An'  welcome,  miss." 

Something  about  the  labourer  arrested  her  attention. 
She  had  known  him  for  a  cheerful  man ;  but  his  face 
was  long  to-day  and  his  voice  inert. 

"Are  you  out  of  work  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Plenty  doing,  miss,  but " 

"  You  were  standing  looking  over  that  gate  —  luck- 
ily for  me." 

"  I  be  a  thought  down-daunted  along  of  a  thing  or 
two.  I'm  taking  a  holiday.  But  please  don't  tell 
nobody.     I   didn't  ought  to  be." 

She  wondered  at  what  might  induce  a  spirit  of  de- 
pression in  this  man.  Labouring  people  did  not  win 
her  sympathy.  She  regarded  them  as  necessary,  but 
not  more  interesting  than  a  steam  plough  or  mechani- 
cal seed  drill.  That  such  a  man  as  Pierce  could  be 
either  much  uplifted,  or  downcast,  seemed  absurd  to 
her. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Don't  tell  none  I  be  loafing,"  he  repeated. 
"  Least  of  all  Mr.  Horn  —  such  a  towser  for  work  as 
him.     'Tis  only  to-day." 

"  I'm  sorry  you  are  troubled,"  she  said,  and  Abel 
looked  surprised,  for  he  knew  well  enough  that  the 
farmer's  daughter  was  considered  a  hard  woman.  Re- 
membering the  past  position  of  Wolferstan  at  Bowden, 
he  pondered  with  himself  He  recollected  how  rumour 
had  once  linked  the  Portreeve's  name  with  Miss  Horn's. 
While  he  thought,  his  eyes  unconsciously  brightened, 
because  they  rested  on  the  two  little  children.  Them 
he  loved.     It  was  an  inner  part  and  characteristic  of 


LINTS    TOR 


55 


Pierce  to  do  so,  and  children  always  found  him  willing 
and  gentle.  He  smiled  now  at  a  small,  yellow-haired 
girl,  and  put  up  his  hand  to  feel  her  cheek. 

"  'Tis  hard  to  be  happy,  miss,"  he  said,  "  hard  to  be 
happy  when  you'm  growed  to  the  thinking  age.  I  be 
disappointed  of  a  great  hope." 

"Ah!  —  you're  not  the  only  man  in  the  world  in 
that  fix." 

Something  urged  him  to  speak  openly. 

"  Do  'e  chance  to  know  a  maiden  by  name  of  Ilet 
Yelland  ?  "   he  asked. 

Her  lips  tightened,  but  she  did  not  change  colour. 

"Some  tale  that  Mr.  Wolferstan "  she  said. 

"More'n  a  tale  —  ah,  Daisy,"  —  he  broke  off  and 
spoke  to  the  little  girl.  "  You  mind,  Daisy,  my  pretty, 
never  you  let  two  men  love  'e  to  once  when  you  grow 
wife-old.     'Tis  —  'tis  hell  for  one  of 'em." 

The  woman  grew  interested.  Her  horse  was  im- 
patient, but  she  quieted  it  with  a  word.  Then  she 
turned  to  Abel. 

"  More  than  a  tale  !      How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  For  a  very  good  reason.  I'd  thought  that  Ilet 
Yelland  would  have  married  me.      I'm  her  cousin." 

"  What !  He's  marrying  a  woman  who  might  have 
married  you  ?  " 

"  Ess  fay  !     Or  a  crowned  king.     There's   no  other 

such  she — I but  what's   this   to   you?     I'm    so 

full  of  it,  that  'twill  out,  miss." 

"  Had  she  promised  you  ?  " 

"  Not  that,  but  so  good  as.  I'd  come  to  feel  'twas 
to  be — so  had  my  mother.  'Twas  clear  like  without 
words.  If  I'd  but  spoken  afore  she  seed  him,  she 
would  have  said  '  yes.'  But,  like  a  daft  fool,  I  drifted 
on  contented." 

"  You  men  are  sheep  in  such  matters." 

"  He  wasn't.     He  courted  her  like  a  fire  courts  an 


56  THE    PORTREEVE 

old  straw  rick.  I  was  working  to  Tavistock  for  a 
week,  an'  when  I  corned  home  they  was  tokened.  An' 
she  loving  me  very  well  all  the  time,  for  she  said  so." 

"But  him  better — naturally." 

Abel  dropped  his  head  and  felt  the  sting. 

"  Naturally  —  no  doubt  —  such  a  fine,  church-going, 
well-thought-on  man." 

The  little  boy  in  the  dogcart  here  ventured  to  speak. 
He  was  waiting  uneasily  for  Primrose  to  drive  on,  and 
he  and  his  sister  had  whispered  together  once  or  twice. 

"  Please,  miss  —  if  us  may  get  down  an'  travel  ? 
Us  shall  be  cruel  late  an'  get  into  trouble,  if  you 
please." 

"  I'll  drive  you  to  the  school-house  door,"  she  an- 
swered ;  then  spoke  to  Pierce. 

"  You  are  a  good  deal  interested  in  this  affair,  of 
course  —  if,  as  you  say,  you  were  practically  engaged 
to  your  cousin  .''  " 

The  labourer  was  playing  with  Daisy  again,  and 
looking  into  the  innocent,  staring  eyes  of  the  child. 
They  were  like  the  white  of  the  plover's  egg :  just 
touched  with  faintest  pearly  azure,  and  in  them  the 
iris  rested  deliciously  blue.  Her  little  hands  held 
Abel's  whiskers. 

"  Give  me  a  kiss  an'  I'll  give  'e  a  halfpenny,"  he 
said. 

Daisy  obeyed  at  once,  and  he  held  her  head  to  his 
cheek  that  her  lips  might  stay  on  it.  Primrose  saw 
fleeting  happiness  pass  over  his  face  at  the  touch. 

"  You're  fond  of  children  ?  " 

"  More  than  that,  miss,  somehow.  I've  got  a  queer 
feeling  for  'em." 

"  I  like  them  till  they  grow  old  enough  to  lie  an' 
whisper  against  us.  Then  I  hate  them.  What  you 
have  said  has  rather  surprised  me  —  for  a  private 
reason." 


LINTS    TOR  57 

"  Knowing  one  of  the  parties  so  well,  I  dare  say  it 
might." 

She  regarded  him  sharply  and  divined  at  least  a  part 
of  his  meaning. 

"  Where  are  you  working  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  At  a  job  a  thought  out  of  the  common.  There 
was  a  man  died  to  Okehampton  last  year,  and  now  his 
wife  wants  a  bit  of  moor-stone  to  set  unwrought  upon 
his  grave.  I  know  just  such  a  piece,  and  I  be  going 
to  show  it  to  Joshua  Bloom  from  Arscott's  granite 
works  at  Belstone  to-morrow." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  Away  up  over,  'tv^ixt  Lints  an'  Dinger.  They'll 
fetch  a  cart  by  New  Bridge  on   Blackavon." 

"  When  will  you  be  there  ?  " 

"  Late  afternoon,  miss." 

"  I'll  ride  that  way  between  four    and  five.      Keep 
your  eye  on   Lints  Tor,  and  when  you  see  me  there 
come  across.     I've  got  something  to  say  to  you." 
.  "  I'll  come,  miss." 

"  But  don't  mention  who  'tis  when  you  see  me ; 
and  don't  name  the  matter  to  anybody." 

Leaving  him  to  reflect  on  this  strange  appointment, 
and  rich  with  ample  matter  for  her  own  thoughts,  the 
woman  started  her  steed  into  a  swift  trot.  Daisy 
crowed  with  delight  and  clung  to  her  brother's  arm. 
Primrose,  well  used  to  the  flying  wind  against  her  face, 
narrowed  her  eyes  a  little  and  put  the  whip  in  its 
socket. 

• 

When  she  returned  that  way,  two  hours  later.  Pierce 
was  gone,  but  he  had  only  just  departed.  For  many 
minutes  he  stood,  leaning  over  the  gate,  with  his  mind 
full  of  this  remarkable  experience.  Of  a  superstitious 
spirit,  he  felt  strongly  how  greater  powers  than  his  own 
were  taking  up  the  thread  of  his  enterprise  and  about 


S8  THE    PORTREEVE 

to  weave  their  proper  pattern  into  it.  The  object  of 
Primrose  he  already  suspected.  Even  as  he  in  secret 
had  cast  about  for  some  stout  aid  against  his  rival,  so 
it  seemed  that  she  too  had  similarly  sought.  And  she 
had  found  him.  He  stared  out  at  the  chance  which 
had  brought  them  together,  as  though  it  was  a  physical 
object  and  could  be  seen.  He  knew  perfectly  well 
what  Miss  Horn  would  have  to  say.  It  struck  him 
that  he  might  meet  her  halfway  and  surprise  her  at 
the  amount  of  his  wits.  But  already  he  perceived  that 
her  part  would  be  very  secret  and  very  difficult.  He 
guessed  that  she  must  also  be  using  her  brains  assidu- 
ously just  then  ;  and  he  was  right.  While  he  debated 
slowly  and  solidly.  Miss  Horn's  swifter  intelligence 
covered  wide  countries  and  attacked  the  problem  from 
a  hundred  separate  standpoints.  She  was  alive  to  the 
exceeding  danger  of  the  thing  she  had  suddenly  planned  ; 
but  therein  lay  its  salt.  Keen  spice  to  life  offered  be- 
fore the  spectacle  of  the  love-lorn  Pierce.  The  game 
was  worth  the  candle,  for  possible  success  would  justify 
the  risk  of  possible  failure.  At  best  a  bold  move 
might  win  Wolferstan  ;  at  worst  she  could  only  stand 
with  respect  to  him  where  now  she  stood.  Failing 
actual  possession  of  him,  nothing  mattered.  His 
opinion  of  her  signified  not  at  all  —  excepting  in  the 
event  of  marriage.  In  any  other  relation  hate  was 
as  welcome  to  her  as  indifference.  There  must,  how- 
ever, be  no  danger  of  truth  escaping  to  poison  success 
after  the  event,  if  success  came.  Therefore  her  first 
determination  was  better  to  study  Pierce  when  next 
they  met,  and  learn  whether  indeed  he  might  be  found 
trustworthy  and  meet  for  such  a  task. 

To  the  tryst  she  came  riding,  and  from  the  low  hill 
of  Lints  surveyed  a  scene  of  huge  and  simple  planes 
subtending  the  river  at  her  feet  and  rising  round  about 
her.     Oke  wound    hither    and    thither  —  a    glittering 


LINTS    TOR  59 

thread  from  its  confines  in  Cranmere.  It  passed  under 
Fordsland  Ledge  upon  the  one  hand  and  the  boggy- 
desolation  of  Amicombe  Hill  upon  the  other.  Mighty 
ravines  haunted  by  shadows  and  falling  waters  faced 
northerly,  and  to  the  south  the  slopes  of  High  Will- 
hayes  made  a  theatre  for  the  display  of  complete  cloud 
shadows.  Their  masses  marked  the  ridges  and  threw 
hillocks  and  stones  into  relief;  their  outlines  ever 
changing,  ever  moving,  now  transformed  the  silver 
of  waters  into  lead,  now  imposed  a  tone  of  pure  purple 
upon  the  jade-green  of  the  waste.  Scotch  cattle  — 
black  and  dun  —  roamed  in  scattered  herds  along;  and 
upon  a  knap  that  rose  between  her  standpoint  and  the 
rocks  of  Dinger  Tor,  Primrose  marked  men  with  a 
horse  and  cart  standing  beside  them.  Here  certain 
labourers  struggled  at  a  great  stone ;  and  just  as  it 
lay,  crusted  with  lichens  and  rich  in  green  pads  of 
moss  tucked  within  its  crannies,  they  heaved  it  from 
its  situation  and  slowly  dragged  it  up  into  their 
cart. 

Primrose  waited  and  watched  the  operation.      Then 
a  figure  separated  itself  from  the  group,  sank  down 
over  the  hill  and  crawled  like  a  fly  toward  her.      In 
reality,  however,   Pierce  advanced  with  speed.     After 
ten  minutes  he  stood  beside  her  and  touched  his  hat. 
"  I'm  feared  I've  kept  'e,  miss." 
"  No  matter.     The  stone  served  ?  " 
"  It  done  very  well,  old  Bloom  said." 

"And  now,  Abel  Pierce,  tell  me " 

She  made  a  long  pause  and  then  broke  off. 
"Sit  down  on  the  turf  and  listen  carefully." 
"Thank  you,  miss;  I'll  bide  where  I  be." 
"  I  was  going  to  say,  tell  me  why  you're  so  fond  of 
children." 

He  stared  at  the  unexpected  question,  grinned  and 
scratched  his  head.      Having  done  so,  he  let  his  hat  lie 


6o  THE    PORTREEVE 

upon  the  ground  and  brushed  the  moisture  from  his 
forehead. 

Primrose  had  never  seen  him  uncovered,  and  now 
observed  that  his  dark  face  was  handsome  as  well  as 
mournful,  and  that  his  eyes  were  not  only  restless,  but 
also  intelligent.      Her  hopes  increased. 

"Childer?"  he  asked.  "  How  can  I  say?  Why  do 
you  like  bosses  ?  " 

"  They  don't  change.     They  are  honest  beasts." 

"  So's  the  children.  Honesty's  their  strong  part. 
'Tis  strange,  but  there's  that  in  'em  always  touches 
me  same  as  church-going  touches  some  folk.  To  pat 
their  little  heads  and  hear  their  moosic  !  So  full  of 
gert  to-morrows  they  be!  Such  hope  an'  trust  to  'em  ! 
They  shame  grown-ups  —  at  least " 

But  she  had  not  come  to  proceed  upon  this  senti- 
mental line  and  now  she  interrupted  him. 

"  You'll  be  a  happy  father  yourself  some  day, 
perhaps." 

"By  God  —  if "     The  softness  faded  out  of 

his  eyes.  They  glowed  at  her  and  his  voice  echoed 
harshly.  "All  of  you,"  he  continued  roughly.  "'Tis 
the  best  we  can  say  of  all  of  you  —  or  any  —  that  you 
may  be  mothers." 

"  You  mean  that  evidently.  Now  you're  waking  up. 
Then,  if  you  feel  so,  it  seems  a  pity  that  the  woman 
you  love  and  who  loved  you " 

"  I  know,"  he  broke  in.  "  List  to  me,  please,  first. 
I'm  quite  clear  why  we're  here  together,  and  a  word 
from  me  will  save  your  time.  No  need  to  wind  into 
this  business  cautious  and  careful  after  the  usual 
woman's  way.  I  ban't  shamed  at  the  hot,  naked 
thing  in  my  heart,  whatever  else  I'm  shamed  of.  I'd 
give  my  eternal  soul  ten  thousand  times  over  to 
be  the  father  of  childer  by  that  woman  —  that's  how 
I   stand." 


LINTS    TOR  61 

Primrose  drew  in  her  breath  sharply.  Terrific 
vigour  marked  his  grating,  longing  accents.  Like 
the  gigantic  breath  of  an  ocean  wind  they  came  and 
smote  the  listener.  The  very  spirit  of  truth  inspired 
his  passionate  speech. 

"  That's  love,"  she  said.  "  I'm  glad  you  spoke  like 
that.  You're  a  man.  We've  reached  the  heart  of  this 
matter  by  a  short  cut.  You  must  have  what  you 
want,   and  I'll  help  you  to  get  it." 

"  Can  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so.  We're  merely  male  and  female 
over  this  business.  You,  who  know  what  you  feel, 
can  probably  guess  why  I'm  here  and  why  I  speak  so 
plainly." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  Say  it  then.  Say  it  in  words,"  she  answered.  "  I 
like  the  way  you  tore  that  thing  out  of  your  heart  and 
showed  it  to  me  raw.  I  want  to  hear  you  say  what's 
in  my  bosom,  as  you  said  what  was  in  your  own. 
Don't  be  frightened  of  plain  words.  Talk  to  me  as 
if  you  were  talking  about  me  behind  my  back — not 
with  a  woman,  but  with  another  man.  I  love  plain 
speaking  —  sometimes." 

But  that  he  would  not  do,  though  he  understood 
her.     He  shook  his   head  and  did  not  answer. 

"  At  any  rate  you  know  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  the  man  —  only  within  the 
bounds  of " 

"  Without  bounds,"  she  said.  "  Since  you're  shy, 
I'll  say  it.  'Tis  interesting  to  meet  a  man  like  you. 
I  don't  feel  you  are  a  man,  for  that  matter,  but  just 
a  fine  hunger  loose  on  two  legs.  I  want  Wolferstan 
every  bit  as  much  as  you  want  that  woman." 

"  You  ban't  afeared  of  words  either  then." 

"  How  far  would  you  go  to  stop  this  marriage  ? " 

"  I've  told  you :   I'd  go  to  raging  hell  to  stop  it." 


62  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  What  did  you  mean  to  do  about  it  before  I  met 

you  r 

He  looked  doubtful. 

"All  be  fair  in  love,  according  to  the  old " 

"  Don't  twaddle,"  she  said  impatiently.  "  We've 
got  beyond  that.  This  thing  is  your  life.  It  isn't 
my  life,  but  it's  the  salt  of  my  life.  I  can  live  with- 
out Wolferstan,  but  to  have  him  would  make  my 
life  a  great  deal  better  worth  living.  You  under- 
stand that  ?  " 

Pie  nodded. 

"  What  sort  of  a  woman  is  this  Ilet  Yelland  ?  " 

"  A  truth-loving,  fierce  sort  of  woman  —  a  woman 
as  can  only  do  one  thing  at  a  time,  and  see  one  thing, 
and  love  one  thing  at  a  time.  I've  dropped  one  drop 
of  poison,  for  that  matter." 

"  Tell  me." 

"You  mind  the  story  of  Minnie  Masters — her  that 
drowned  herself  and  her  child  in  Bude  Canal  ?  " 

"  Nobody  ever  believed  that." 

"I  did — always.  And  a  good  few  other  neighbours. 
How  if  'twas  true  ?  " 

"  He's  not  that  sort  of  man." 

"  Every  man's  that  sort  of  man,  come  time  and 
chance  and  his  fire  up.  The  woman's  mother  believed 
it,  for  she  cussed  Wolferstan  in  the  public  street  the 
day  her  darter  was  buried  ;  and  the  old  soul  had  to  be 
locked  up  for  a  while,  because  parson  wouldn't  read 
the  burial  service  over  Minnie,  but  only  a  bit  of  it. 
And  she  said  she'd  cut  his  cowardly  tongue  out.  Well, 
that  woman's  alive." 

"  You  want  to  get  Ilet  Yelland  to  believe  this  ? " 

"  'Twould  shake  her  if  I  could." 

"  It's  strong  enough  ?  " 

"  For  her,  yes,  I  reckon  so.  You  mean  it  wouldn't 
be  strong  enough  for  you,  miss  ^ 


>» 


LINTS    TOR  63 

"  That's  no  matter.  Supposing  you're  wrong  and 
she  laughs  at  it  ?  " 

"  She  did  laugh  at  it —  coming  from  me  ;  but  'twas 
a  left-handed  laugh.      I  know  her  every  sound." 

"  If  he  had  done  it  and  confessed  it,  that  wouldn't 
make  her  give  him  up  ;  but  if  he  denied  it,  and  she 
was  positive  he  lied " 

She  was  silent,  and  then  continued. 

"The  thing  must  be  proved  to  her  mind  —  thrust 
into  it  —  stamped  into  it.  Try  and  make  other  people 
believe  it  too.  If  she  finds  a  dozen  to  do  so,  she  will 
begin  to  doubt.     Then  she  taxes  him " 

"  And  he  denies  it,"  said  Pierce. 

"  That's  what  I  know  and  you  don't,"  answered 
Primrose.  " 'Tis  odds  but  he  might  not  deny  it.  If 
the  thing  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  and  he  was  in  his 
angry  vein,  he  wouldn't  deny  it.  He'd  flash  into  fury 
that  anybody  alive  could  dare  even  to  raise  the  ques- 
tion." 

"  What's  to  do  then  ?  " 

"  Evidence.  Suppose  this  old  woman  was  able  to 
say  that  her  daughter  accused  Wolferstan  with  her  last 
breath  and  then  went  out  to  the  river.  Very  likely 
that  is  what  happened." 

Pierce  looked  at  her  face.  It  was  beautiful  beyond 
belief  and  flushed  with  excitement. 

"  You'm  the  axe  for  this  tree,  sure  enough,"  he  said. 
"  The  old  woman  would  swear  anything,  no  doubt." 

"  Or  you  might  remind  him  that  he  confessed  to  you 
that  he  ruined  the  girl  after  it  happened.  One  man's 
word  is  as  good  as  another." 

"  No,  no,  it  ban't.  You're  out  there.  His  word's 
better  than  mine  —  every  day  of  the  week  —  as  much 
better  as  his  position  and  eggication." 

"  Tell  the  girl's  people  —  the  dead  girl,  I  mean  — 
that  'tis  well  known  Wolferstan  ruined  her  and  sent 


64  THE    PORTREEVE 

her  to  her  grave.  Tell  everybody.  It  should  be 
known.  There's  to  be  a  colt  drift  at  Halstock  Pound 
next  week.     Can  you  be  there  ?  " 

"  I've  got  to  be  there,  to  help  with  the  work." 

"  He  will  be  among  the  men  driving  in  the  ponies, 
and  I  am  going  to  ride  over  too.  A  crowd  always 
comes.     That's  your  chance  for  the  first  shot." 

"  Us  must  get  Ilet  there,"  he  said. 

"  She  is  to  be  there.  He  is  going  to  introduce  me 
to  her.     A  great  chance  to  strike  the  first  blow." 

"  Before  company  ?  " 

"  The  more  the  merrier." 

"  I  be  going  to  do  the  work,  then  ?  " 

"Your  share — yes.  You  ought  to  be  proud  of  it, 
and  proud  to  think  how  I  trust  you.  But  I  shan't 
shirk  my  part.  I'll  console  him  in  secret.  I'll 
believe  nothing  against  him.  I  may  even  lose  my 
temper  and  beat  you  across  the  face  before  everybody. 
Don't  be  surprised  if  I  do." 

"Lord,  what  a  light  you  throw  upon  this  job  !  " 

"  Repeat  the  old  rumour  openly  at  the  drift  and  see 
what  may  come  of  it." 

"  His  whip-lash  will  come  of  it.  There  won't  be 
no  call  for  you  to  use  yours." 

"  So  much  the  better.  A  few  bruises  don't  matter 
if  there's  Ilet  to  kiss  them  well.  Wolferstan's  an  ex- 
ceedingly Christian  sort  of  man,  but  he's  got  a  temper. 
He  may  be  patient,  or  he  may  take  the  law  into  his  own 
hands.  And  you  might  remind  him  that  he  did  con- 
fess the  truth  to  you.  Stick  to  that  through  thick  and 
thin  ;  and  invent  the  details,  and  stick  to  them  too.  A 
lie  is  often  just  as  hard  to  disprove  as  the  truth  is  to  es- 
tablish. Let  a  thing  be  repeated  often  enough  and  people 
must  begin  to  believe  it  and  make  others  believe  it." 

She  turned  to  her  horse. 

"  Give  me  a  hand,"  she  said. 


LINTS    TOR  65 

He  held  his  pahn  for  her ;  her  foot  touched  it  and 
she  was  in  the  saddle. 

"Don't  waste  time,"  she  concluded.  "This  silly 
love  between  them  —  what  is  it  ?  Only  a  few  months 
old  at  best.  Loose  the  whirlwind  and  scorch  it  up. 
Our  powder  and  shot  is  rather  scanty.  We  mustn't 
throw  any  away.  Keep  off  love  with  I  let  Yelland. 
Be  cold  and  indifferent  there.  'Twould  be  better  for 
your  future  chances  if  any  but  you  could  separate 
them  ;  but  there's  nobody  else  to  do  it." 

He  nodded  and  she  rode  away,  crossed  the  river  and 
vanished  westerly. 

"  Let  what  will  come,  there's  amusement  in  it,"  she 
reflected.  "  'Tis  hunting  of  a  sort.  Fox-hunting  — 
man-hunting  —  what  more  has  life  for  me  ?  " 

Abel  too  moved  homeward.  He  did  not  anticipate 
over  much  amusement  from  his  future.  In  his  shad- 
owed mind  dwelt  darkness  deeper  than  the  oncoming 
gloom,  where  night  shouldered  day  and  rolled  up  from 
the  central  loneliness  of  the  Moor  in  a  cloud  of  rain. 
He  felt  that  the  woman  was  far  too  clever  for  him,  that 
he  was  to  be  her  tool  rather  than  her  accomplice  in  this 
infamy.  Yet  he  perceived  that  she  had  put  herself 
into  his  power. 

"  If  I  go  down  on  it,  she  does  too,"  he  thought ; 
and  the  determination  calmed  him. 

Black  fleeces  ridge  on  ridge  rose  from  the  edge  of  the 
earth  and  drove  gloomily  forward.  Night  in  a  storm- 
cloud  swept  out  of  the  east,  and  the  familiar  crying  of 
the  wind  on  the  stone  awoke.  From  that  hour  it  rained 
without  intermission  for  three  days,  and  through  many 
weeks  no  human  soul  again  stood  where  these  two  had 
met  and  brought  forth  evil.  Only  the  fox  dragged 
his  brush  through  the  mire,  and  the  wild  cattle  snorted 
at  the  hole  whence  a  gravestone  had  been  dragged  — 
snorted  and  stamped  uneasily,  scenting  man. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    DRIFT 

AFTER  centuries  of  roaming,  the  Dartmoor  pony 
has  attained  to  the  dignity  of  a  legal  institution, 
and  among  those  survivals  of  ancient  custom 
still  exercised  by  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall,  is  the  colt- 
drift,  a  ceremony  in  which  these  little  beasts  are  prin- 
cipal performers.  The  secret  of  the  appointed  day  is 
kept  as  close  as  possible,  in  order  that  'foreigners'  who 
can  claim  no  venville  rights  of  pasture,  may  be  caught 
and  their  owners  fined.  In  olden  days  this  numbering 
of  the  pony  people  was  a  matter  involving  some  state 
and  solemnity  ;  now  the  rite  is  robbed  of  its  more 
picturesque  array. 

On  an  autumn  morning  men  and  women,  some 
riding  and  some  afoot,  proceeded  in  irregular  lines 
across  the  Moor,  and  converged  upon  Halstock  Pound 
nigh  the  farm  of  that  name  on  Halstock  Hill.  The 
drift  was  in  the  north  quarter  of  the  Forest,  and  those 
Moor-men  responsible  for  this  great  tract  had  charge 
of  the  operations.  Already  a  few  ponies  were  enclosed, 
and  from  time  to  time,  over  the  heather  ridges  southerly, 
trotting  droves,  with  manes  and  tails  flying  and  little 
foals  galloping  among  them,  would  appear  and  be 
rounded  up  into  the  pound  by  busy  dogs  and  shouting 
men. 

From  Belstone  and  Okehampton,  the  people  came 
to  see  the  sight.  Those  officially  engaged  were  already 
riding  far  away  on  the  waste  and  bringing  up  the  colts 
from  their  favourite  *  strolls '  and  haunts  in  the  lonely 

66 


THE    DRIFT  67 

places.  Out  of  Meldon  valley  old  Abner  Barkell  and 
a  friend  or  two  trudged  together.  Behind  them  came 
Ilet  Yelland  and  her  cousin,  Abel  Pierce.  She  went 
to  meet  Wolferstan  ;  he  came  to  work.  Elsewhere, 
on  horseback,  trotted  Primrose  Horn,  escorted  by 
Orlando  Slanning  and  a  few  other  young  sportsmen. 

A  man  who  looked  eighty  years  old,  but  was  in 
reality  some  ten  years  less,  discoursed  with  Abner 
Barkell  upon  the  event  of  the  day.  He  was  a  shep- 
herd and  had  lived  on  Dartmoor  ail  his  life. 

"  Not  what  it  did  use  to  be,"  he  said.  "  The  vartue 
have  gone  out  of  it  an'  the  secret  of  the  day's  not  kept 
same  as  once.  I  mind  when  we  never  knowed  till  the 
very  morn,  an'  then  horns  blowed  upon  the  mountain- 
tops,  as  sudden  as  the  crack  of  doom  will  be  out  of  the 
angels'  trumpets.  Many  a  bold  feller,  who  had  his 
ponies  running  unbeknownst,  was  catched  out  in  them 
days  an'  fined  five  shilling  in  the  face  of  the  nation. 
But  Duchy's  not  what  it  was,  though  never  a  thing  to 
be  proud  of.  The  law's  gone  weak  —  along  of  Beacons- 
field,  I  suppose  ;  though  God  forbid  as  I  should  heave 
a  stone  at  the  dead." 

Mr.  Barkell  nodded  approval,  and  a  farmer,  who 
had  joined  them,  spoke. 

"  Every  word  true,  Ned  Perryman,"  he  said. 
"  Duciiy  be  no  more'n  a  big  name  for  a  very  on- 
righteous  contrivance.  It  laughs  at  the  wxak  an'  lets 
out  our  birthright  to  anybody  as  offers  cash.  Money's 
the  Duchy's  god,  to  be  plain." 

"  There  ain't  many  on  Dartmoor  has  a  good  word 
for  it,  seemingly,"  declared  Abner.  "  All  the  same, 
you'll  do  well  to  be  careful  what  you  say,  for  there's 
all  sorts  about  this  morning.  If  his  honour  the  Prince 
of  Wales  heard  you " 

"  I  wish  he  could,"  burst  out  Mr.  Perrvman.  "  He 
don't  know  nought  about  it.     When  royal  princes  go 


68  THE    PORTREEVE 

abroad,  the  truth's  always  hidden  behind  flags  an' 
banners,  an'  drowned  wi'  brass  moosic.  Look  at  it ! 
What  reward  do  me  an'  the  Hkes  of  me  get  for  keeping 
up  wi'  the  times  ?  Let  Duchy  find  that  us  can  add 
a  room  to  our  cottages,  or  sweeten  a  bit  of  the  fen  an* 
build  a  tidy  wall  round  it,  what  do  it  do  ?  Pat  us  on 
the  back  an'  reward  us  ?  No,  by  Gor !  Down  comes 
—  you  know  who  —  like  a  raven,  an'  sticks  another 
pound  on  the  rent.  'Tis  worse  than  infidel  Turks  an' 
a  crying  outrage  on  Christianity." 

The  shepherd's  voice  rose  and  his  black  eyes  flashed. 
He  believed,  not  without  reason,  that  he  had  suffered 
from  petty  injustice  for  half  a  century. 

His  grand-daughter  Jane,  a  tall,  hard-faced  and 
angular  young  woman,  walked  beside  him. 

"  Hush,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "  Us  all  know  you 
for  a  very  radical  old  man  and  very  valiant  also  ;  but 
'tis  vain  to  grow  hot.     Us  can't  mend  it." 

"Justice  never  do  come  out  top,  Jane,  onless  by 
chance  'tis  stronger  than  t'other,  which  seldom  hap- 
pens," remarked  Mr.  Barkell.  "You  Moor  folk  whine 
about  in  public-houses,"  he  continued,  "  but  what's  the 
good  o'  that?  If  you  want  to  be  heard,  you  must  do 
what  other  people  do  an'  shout  together.  That's  how 
us  railway  men  get  on  in  the  world.  An'  if  you  can't 
shout  loud  enough,  owing  to  ignorance,  you  ought  to 
scrape  up  a  bit  of  money  an'  pay  a  lawyer  chap  to 
shout  for  'e." 

"So  I  always  have  said,"  replied  Ferryman.  "The 
thing  did  ought  to  be  laid  afore  Parliament,  an'  when 
our  side  gets  in  again,  I  hope  it  will  be.  We'm  the 
lawful  citizens  up  here,  an'  Duchy's  a  law-breaker. 
The  very  place  we  be  walking  now  is  sold  over  our 
heads  to  the  military,  for  them  to  bang  their  blasted 
cannons  an'  rob  us  of  our  grazing  rights  for  miles  an* 
miles." 


THE   DRIFT  69 

Not  far  off  Pierce  walked  beside  Ilet  Yelland ;  but 
they  said  very  little,  for  the  shadow  cast  at  their  meet- 
ing above  the  Island  of  Rocks  had  deepened.  Ilet 
suffered  at  the  insinuation  against  her  betrothed,  and 
was  hurt  to  the  heart  that  Abel  could  have  made  it. 
He  had  been  content  to  let  the  idea  fester  for  a  time ; 
and  now,  in  light  of  what  was  to  come,  he  approached 
the  subject  abruptly  as  they  neared  Halstock  Pound. 

"  I  spoke  for  your  good  and  nought  else,"  he  said. 
"  I  must  suffer,  it  seems  ;  but  you'll  be  sorry  some 
day ;  for  nobody  sticks  up  for  truth  like  you  do.  I 
know  what  I  said  be  gospel ;  but  I  shouldn't  have  said 
it  out  unless  your  life  had  depended  on  it.  Now  I'll 
say  it  out  again  ;  an'  if  I  can  only  save  you,  I  don't 
care  what  happens  to  me." 

"  Not  one  word  will  I  believe  against  him.  If  there 
was  anything  —  but  'tis  a  mad  thought.  Open  as  the 
morning  sun,  an'  as  honest.      His  face  is  enough." 

"  Faces  !  Ban't  every  muscle  of  a  man's  face  trained 
to  hide  his  meaning?  Haven't  you  larned  not  to  show 
what  you  feel  an'  think  ?  'Tis  the  first  thing  every- 
body larns.  Do  you  let  your  mind  look  out  of  your 
eyes  ?  Not  you  !  The  man's  cruel  as  the  grave  an' 
hard  as  a  stone,  behind  that  straight  glance.  He 
ruined  Minnie  Masters ;  an'  I  know  it ;  an'  now  you 
know  it.     Ax  him  an'  look  close  when  he  answers." 

"  I'd  rather  die  than  ax  him." 

"  You'll  do  wiser  to,  all  the  same." 

"  If  he  heard  this,  he'd  break  every  bone  In  your 
body,  Abel." 

"  He  might,  an'  welcome,  if  he  could  disprove  it." 

"  Right  well  you  know  'tis  a  lie." 

"  Ax  him,"  repeated  the  other.  "  Let  him  only 
prove  that  dead  woman  went  to  her  grave  with  a  false- 
hood on  her  lips,  and  I'll  be  best  man  at  his  wedding, 
if  he  hkes.     Till  then  I  say  he's  an  evil-liver  and  a 


70  THE    PORTREEVE 

double-dealing,  cruel  devil.  There's  the  man  !  And 
to  his  face  I'll  say  what  1  have  said  to  you." 

Behind  five-and-thirty  ponies  galloped  Wolferstan 
and  another  rider.  Three  sheep-dogs  assisted  them. 
The  cavalcade  swept  past  and  Dodd  turned  in  his 
saddle  and  shouted, 

"  See  you  later  !  " 

Then  a  hollow  hid  them  from  view. 

Ilet  said  but  one  word  more.  To  her  it  seemed 
that  honesty  and  truth  incarnate  had  ridden  past  in  the 
person  of  the  Portreeve. 

"  'Tis  an  insult  to  him  to  listen  to  you,  and  I'll  not 
do  it.  My  heart's  not  sad  for  myself —  not  sad  nor 
distrustful  neither.  I  be  only  sad  for  you,  that  you 
can  think  so  foul  ;  an'  for  my  man,  that  he've  got  such 
an  enemy.  But  yesterday  he  told  me  he  hadn't  one 
enemy  in  the  world." 

"  Another  lie.      He  knows  better." 

They  were  now  among  the  scattered  folk  who 
approached  Halstock  Pound,  and  the  stone  walls  of 
the  enclosure  appeared. 

Men  crowded  at  the  gate,  and  the  drove  that 
Wolferstan  had  brought  up  now  trotted  in  to  join  the 
rest.  Spectators  stood  round  with  heads  and  shoulders 
above  the  dry-built  barriers  ;  and  some  sat  upon  the 
walls  to  watch  the  moving  mass  of  little  horses  within. 

Like  beads  scattered  irregularly  the  ponies  came 
streaming  along  with  blowing  hair  and  tossing  heads. 
They  hustled  and  jostled,  turned  and  twisted  ;  but 
evasion  was  vain  and  all  presently  found  themselves 
impounded.  Here  grey  and  russet,  iron-grey,  bay 
and  black  assembled  in  a  growing  crowd  ;  and  every 
sort  and  shape  of  moorland  steed  was  here  —  from  the 
pot-bellied,  cow-hocked,  ancient  mare,  as  familiar  with 
drifts  as  the  Moor-men  themselves,  to  the  little,  fright- 
ened foal,  six  weeks  old.     The  small,  woolly  things  ran 


THE    DRIFT  71 

about  on  their  spindle  legs  and  uttered  frantic  expres- 
sions of  dismay  if  swept  for  a  moment  from  their 
mothers'  sides.  One  tiny  golden  chestnut,  like  a  ray 
of  sunlight,  flashed  and  scampered  about  among  the 
darker  colts,  half  in  fear,  half  in  fun.  The  air  was  full 
of  neighings  and  whinneyings,  now  thin  and  shrill,  now 
frantic,  now  inquiring,  now  protesting,  now  sinking  upon 
a  guttural  note  of  recognition,  or  rising  into  a  scream 
of  temper.  The  ponies  were  never  silent  and  never 
motionless.  They  chattered  in  their  own  language 
without  intermission  ;  and  they  swept  round  and  round, 
this  way  and  that,  until  the  eye  was  dazzled  by  this 
kaleidoscopic  maze  of  horsey  colours.  A  running  fire 
of  noise  and  shifting  field  of  hue  they  presented.  Fresh 
arrivals  were  met  with  a  chorus  of  questions  ;  then  they 
answered  and  lifted  their  voices  with  the  rest  and  joined 
the  increasing  throng.  Now  little  separate  stampedes 
occurred;  now  sudden  explosions  of  sound  as  a  dozen 
wide,  red  nostrils  simultaneously  snorted  and  quivered. 
Squeals  of  rage  punctuated  the  din,  and,  under  all,  was 
the  throb  and  thud  of  small,  unshod  hoofs  that  never 
stilled  and  swiftly  trampled  the  pound  to  mire.  Some- 
times a  pair  of  heels  came  with  a  bang  into  a  neigh- 
bour's ribs  ;  sometimes  white  teeth  flashed  and  the  little 
beasts  reared  to  bite  each  other.  Duns  and  browns  and 
dirty  whites  were  woven  into  this  pattern  of  moving 
pony  backs.  It  was  touched  with  the  darkness  of 
manes  and  tails,  brightened  with  shining  noses,  alive 
and  alert  with  pricking  ears  and  glittering  eyes.  Dart- 
moor and  Exmoor  mingled  here,  and  experts  pointed 
the  difl^erence ;  men  moved  fearlessly  amid  the  mass ; 
a  hot  equine  smell  rose  dense  in  the  air  —  the  atmos- 
phere proper  to  a  drift.  All  the  ponies  were  marked, 
with  a  plait  in  the  tails  or  a  string  in  the  ear,  and  now 
the  new-born  foals  received  some  sort  of  sign  by  which 
they  should   be   known.      The   little,  bright  chestnut 


72  THE    PORTREEVE 

fought  valiantly,  and  it  took  Abel  Pierce  and  another 
to  hold  him  by  nose  and  tail,  while  a  third,  with  a  pair 
of  shears,  clipped  a  letter  on  his  infant  coat.  Then 
into  a  corner  the  small  thing  stole  trembling  and  sweat- 
ing from  this,  his  first  battle  with  his  master. 

Typical  as  the  rough  ponies  were  those  who  strode 
among  them.  Here  were  the  brown-faced,  grey- 
haired  Moor-men  ;  here  labourers  and  yelling  boys ; 
here  farmers,  owners,  sportsmen,  and  a  dapper  and 
prosperous  spirit  or  two,  with  some  smattering  of  sci- 
ence and  an  interest  in  improving  the  breed.  These 
authorities  talked  learnedly ;  while  labourers  captured 
the  new-born  horses  and  let  the  fillies,  mares,  and 
geldings  go  free  again.  The  liberated  colts  kicked  up 
their  heels,  squealed  joyfully,  and  galloped  off  with 
sheep-dogs,  like  their  lupine  ancestors,  yelping  and 
snapping  in  a  pack  behind  them. 

The  crowd  increased.  Young  Slanning  discoursed 
with  his  friends  on  pony-rearing  ;  Pierce,  forgetting  the 
first  business  that  brought  him,  worked  hard  with  the 
ponies  and  yet  found  time  to  help  half  a  dozen  little 
children  on  to  the  pound  wall ;  old  Ned  Perryman 
stood  lowering  from  under  white  eyebrows  at  the 
Bailiff  of  the  Duchy,  who  had  just  arrived.  To  Ned's 
eye  this  inoffensive  person  represented  the  darkest 
force  in  his  life.  Mr.  Barkell  helped  to  tap  a  barrel 
of  beer;  Ilet  and  Dodd  watched  the  ponies;  and 
Primrose  Horn  watched  them  from  horseback  at  hand. 

The  Bailiff  of  the  Duchy  drank  no  beer.  When 
time  for  refreshment  came,  he  was  content  with  a  bottle 
of  lemonade.  Many  regarded  his  impassive  brown 
face  and  dark  eyes  ;  none  knew  what  opinions  the  man 
might  be  entertaining  or  what  projects  took  shape 
within  the  hidden  places  of  his  mind.  Silence  was  his 
secret  of  power.  He  rarely  committed  himself  to  any 
expression  of  opinion  or  definite  promise. 


THE   DRIFT 


73 


There  were  no  fines  to  be  levied  on  the  occasion  of 
this  drift,  and  the  business,  so  to  call  it,  quickly  ended. 
Then  horn  mugs  appeared  and  the  company  congre- 
gated in  hale  comradeship  and  good  humour.  Wolf- 
erstan  was  popular  and  received  many  friendly  greetings. 
As  Portreeve  of  the  Bridgetstowe  Commons,  he  played 
his  part.  The  Bailiff  shook  his  hand  and  saw  in  him 
a  fellow  official. 

Then  stood  up  Abel  Pierce,  grim  and  dogged,  be- 
side the  beer  barrel  and  waited  for  a  chance  to  speak. 
Ilet  Yelland  was  something  of  a  heroine  on  this  occa- 
sion, and  but  for  the  cloud  at  her  heart,  had  felt  a 
proud  woman.  For  Dodd  introduced  her  to  certain 
farmers'  wives  and  to  various,  smart  farmers'  daughters 
on  horseback,  including  Miss  Horn.  Primrose  shook 
hands  genially  and  spoke  softly,  while  she  bent  forward, 
stroked  her  horse's  neck  and  fixed  her  fearless  grey 
eyes  upon  the  dark  ones  of  Ilet,  Without  appearing 
so  to  do,  she  estimated  every  point  and  perfection  of 
the  other's  mind  and  body.  She  read  the  brown, 
bright  face,  listened  to  the  slow  voice,  marked  the 
scanty  vocabulary  and  saw  a  woman  of  one  idea  — 
fervent,  humble,  noble,  and  probably  narrow.  The 
scrutiny  helped  her  on  her  way.  They  went  aside 
together,  and  Primrose  praised  Wolferstan  delicately. 
For  some  time  they  conversed,  but  were  just  about  to 
part,  when  a  noise  of  anger  at  the  beer  barrel  turned 
their  eyes  in  that  direction. 

Pierce's  opportunity  had  come.  His  enemy  was 
drinking  and  had  clinked  his  horn  mug  with  many 
friends.  Now  he  saw  Abel  and,  exhibiting  just 
a  shadow  of  patronage,  held  out  his  half-empty 
horn. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  the  other,  loud  and  clear. 
"  I  ban't  drinking  with  you,  Portreeve.  I  ain't  forgot 
Minnie  Masters  yet." 


74 


THE   PORTREEVE 


Dodd's  face  blazed  into  hot  crimson,  but  he  spoke 
quietly. 

"  Have  you  been  asleep  then  ?  That  lie's  laid  this 
two  year  an'  more.  All  the  world  knowed  'twas  false 
—  all  but  you,  seemingly.  Be  careful  of  your  speech, 
my  son,  else  you'll  get  into  trouble." 

"  I  ban't  your  son.  Your  son  was  drawed  out  of 
Bude  canal  along  with  his  mother.  An'  you  can  take 
back  your  lie,  for  I  tell  truth  and  many  honest  folk 
know  'tis  truth  !  " 

There  was  a  murmur  and  some  men  intervened.  Old 
Ferryman  spoke  to  Pierce. 

"  You  drunken  fool !  What  spleen  be  this  ?  Go 
away  and  blush  for  yourself —  to  bring  up  that  story." 

"  Let  the  man  stop,"  cried  Wolferstan.  "  Let  him 
stop  —  drunk  or  sober —  till  he's  called  back  afore  this 
company  what  he's  said  afore  it !  That  dirty,  wicked 
scandal  never  was  believed  by  any  living  soul  who 
knew  me." 

"  All  the  same,  where  there's  smoke  there's  fire," 
said   a  big  voice  from   horseback. 

Wolferstan  turned  and  saw  Slanning  close  at  hand. 
He  and  one  or  two  other  young  men  were  smiling  to- 
gether, and  the  Portreeve  looked  upon  them  with 
astonishment.  His  self-control  disappeared  and  he 
began  to  grow  excited.  Round  him  were  many  faces, 
some  amused,  some  merely  interested,  some  angry  on 
his  behalf  Voices  broke  out,  but  he  could  not 
listen.  Standing  apart,  he  saw  Ilet  beside  Primrose 
Horn. 

"  No  smoke  without  fire  —  no  smoke  without  fire  !  " 
shouted  Slanning  again  ;  then  he  laughed  mightily. 

"  And  no  lie  without  an  evil  heart  behind  it,"  an- 
swered Wolferstan.  "  This  man  brings  a  charge  that 
is  dead  and  buried." 

"  The  woman  and  her  child  are  dead  and  buried  — 


THE   DRIFT  75 

not  the  charge  apparently,"  said  a  horseman.  He 
was  a  stranger  to  all  parties  present,  and  was  merely- 
amused  at  the  quarrel. 

" 'Tis  a  lie,"  answered  the  Portreeve  —  "a  black, 
damnable  he,  and  I'll  leave  it  at  that.  None  on  God's 
earth  can  whisper  one  foul  word  against  me,  or  my 
dealings  with  man  or  woman;  and  for  this  cur  — 
why  he's  done  it  I  don't  know ;  but  the  answer  I  do 
know." 

Dodd  walked  up  to  Pierce  and  those  who  stood  be- 
tween them  fell  away.  It  was  a  personal  difference 
and  nobody  felt  any  obligation  seriously  to  interfere. 

Abel  did  not  flinch  and  did  not  rage  ;  he  stood  look- 
ing squarely  at  the  angry  man,  and  kept  his  hands  in 
his  pockets. 

"  Why  for  shouldn't  I  give  you  a  hiding,  you  evil- 
speaking  toad  ?  To  stand  here  afore  this  rally  of 
neighbours  and  spit  out  this  lie " 

"  If 'tis  a  lie,  I'll  let  you  flay  the  skin  off  my  bones," 
said  Pierce  calmly.  "  I  ban't  feared  of  your  noise. 
Truth's  truth,  an'  truth  will  come  to  light.  Who 
ruined  Minnie  Masters,  if  you  didn't  ?  If  'tis  a  lie, 
then  she  went  to  face  her  God  wi'  a  lie  on  her  lips,  for 
her  old  mother  will  swear  that  she  accused  you  the 
night  afore  she  drowned  herself.  Bluster  an'  swear 
and  swing  your  whip,  an'  thrust  yourself  among  your 
betters.  But  prove  I'm  a  liar  —  that's  what  you've 
got  to  do.     Then  smite  —  not  sooner." 

Wolferstan  stared  almost  helplessly  round  about  him. 

"  Who  believes  this  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  I  don't !  " 

The  Bailiff  of  the  Duchy  spoke  in  tones  deliberate 
and  calm. 

"  I  do  !  "  said  Orlando.  "  The  man's  guilty  —  look 
at  him  ! " 

Men  growled  and  argued  and  took  sides  upon  it. 


^(i  THE    PORTREEVE 

Abel  Pierce  still  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  his  eyes  on  Wolferstan's  agitated  countenance. 
There  was  a  movement  in  the  crowd  where  people 
pressed  to  the  centre  of  excitement. 

One  heavy  thought  struck  the  Portreeve  and  he 
wondered  why  Ilet  stood  aloof.  At  this  cruel  crisis 
she  did  not  come.  Anger  broke  loose  in  him  —  wrath 
at  the  dark,  insolent  face  beside  him.  Ilet  was  now 
approaching  as  swiftly  as  she  could  make  way  through 
the  crowd,  but  he  did  not  know  it. 

"  Believe  it  the  cowards  and  curs  who  will !  "  he 
shouted.     Then  he  turned  on  Pierce. 

"  There's  my  payment  for  your  villainy  —  the  only 
payment  it's  worth,  you  foul-minded  wretch  !  " 

His  hunting-crop  screeched  and  the  heavy  cane 
struck   Abel   across   the  cheek. 

The  sufferer  gloried  in  this  sudden,  burning  pang. 
For  him  no  shame  came  with  it.  He  put  his  hands 
to  his  face,  and  two  men  sprang  forward  and  kept  Dodd 
from  repeating  the  blow. 

A  babel  broke  out  among  the  spectators.  The 
horses  had  scarcely  made  more  noise. 

Slanning  roared  the  rest  down. 

"  Guilty  !  Guilty  !  You  with  the  raw  face  there,  why 
don't  you  hit  him  back  ?  " 

The  Duchy  Bailiff  had  elbowed  his  way  to  Wolfer- 
stan's side  and  now  spoke  in  a  voice  that  was  almost  a 
command. 

"  Get  on  your  horse  and  ride  away  —  quick  !  'Tis 
ill  answering  lies  with  blows,  but  you've  done  it  now." 

"  An'  right  to  do  it,"  cried  another.  "  So  would  I, 
or  any  man." 

"  Blows  ban't  proof  of  innocence,  nevertheless," 
argued  a  third. 

Ilet  had  reached  her  lover's  side,  but  he  pushed  her 
away  with  the  rest  and  got  quickly  to  his  horse.      Many 


THE    DRIFT  -]-] 

voices  babbled ;  many  differences  of  opinion  were  ex- 
pressed ;  a  farmer  uttered  the  general  decision. 

"  'Tis  for  this  chap  to  prove  Portreeve  guilty,  if  he 
can,  not  for  Portreeve  to  trouble  about  it,"  he  said. 
"  Let  him  as  brings  this  charge  make  it  good,  an'  be 
damned  to  him  !  " 

A  policeman  appeared  and  took  Wolferstan's  name 
and  address.  Then  the  parties  broke  away  into  two 
camps,  and  some  stood  round  Pierce,  and  some  followed 
Dodd  to  his  horse.  A  dozen  minor  quarrels  sprang 
up,  and  two  men  came  to  blows  on  their  own  account 
in  the  corner  of  the  pound.  Primrose  insulted  Mr. 
Slanning  when  he  returned  to  her  side,  and  the  youth 
rode  wretchedly  home  alone  ;  for  she  refused  his  escort, 
called  him  '  a  noisy  coward  '  in  the  hearing  of  half  a 
dozen  soldiers  from  the  artillery  camp,  and  then  turned 
her  back  on  him. 

Two  hours  later  she  met  the  wounded  Pierce  on 
Fordsland  Ledge  in  secret.  A  deep  purple  wale,  fading 
to  livid  white,  scored  his  cheek,  and  he  knew  that  it  was 
payment  well  earned  ;  but  she  encouraged  him  stoutly. 

"  'Tis  very  well,  but  she'll  never  forgive  me,"  he 
said.  "  I  saw  her  face  as  I  came  away.  There  was 
everlasting  hate  on  it." 

"  Rubbish !  Only  in  your  eyes  it  looked  so. 
Nothing's  everlasting.  You  did  splendidly.  What's 
a  bruise  to  winning  her  ?  She's  the  sort  to  stick  in 
one  place  only.  Get  her  away,  and  the  rest  will  be 
easy.  The  countryside  is  full  of  this  now.  She'll 
have  to  ask  him  if  'tis  true." 

"  The  old  woman's  ready  to  swear  against  him  that 
his  name  was  the  last  on  her  daughter's  lips," 

"  The  seed's  sown  then.  Let  it  take  root  and 
sprout.  You'll  marry  her,  if  you  play  your  cards 
right.     As  for  him " 

She  broke  off  and  rode  away. 


78  THE   PORTREEVE 

And  elsewhere,  stunned  by  the  event  of  the  morning, 
Wolferstan,  for  the  first  time  in  his  Hfe,  felt  what  it  was 
to  have  enemies. 

Bitterly  he  mourned  the  day's  doings  ;  bitterly  he 
resented  the  evil  fable  now  revived  against  his  good 
name ;  but,  before  all  else,  he  deplored  two  things  : 
that  Ilet  had  not  hastened  to  his  side  and  held  his 
hand  against  Pierce,  and  that  he  had  lost  his  temper, 
fallen  into  a  rage  and  put  himself  in  the  wrong  by  a 
brutal  blow  on  a  man  unarmed.  He  had  never  dreamed 
of  this  possibility  in  himself — this  unreasoning,  head- 
long rage.  But  the  temptation  to  assault  a  fellow-man 
had  not  offered  until  that  moment.  For  a  time  Wolf- 
erstan despaired  of  himself;  then  calmer  thoughts 
came,  and  he  braced  his  mind  to  action.  Yet  chaos 
rode  homeward  with  him.  The  word  *  enemies ' 
filled  his  brain.  He  considered  what  course  to  take 
and  where  to  seek  counsel.  His  first  idea  was  to 
rush  to  Ilet.  But  shame  of  himself  and  something 
very  like  impatience  with  her  apparent  passivity,  turned 
his  ideas  into  another  channel.  Next  he  cast  about 
for  a  friend  who  might  teach  him  how  to  proceed  in 
the  difficulty  thus  wickedly  thrust  upon  him.  Once 
he  thought  of  going  to  see  Alexander  Horn,  and  once 
he  was  in  a  mind  to  speak  to  Primrose.  Next  his  in- 
tention turned  to  the  vicar  of  the  parish  church ;  but 
his  mood  tended  not  that  way.  Finally  he  determined 
to  see  Dicky  Barkell,  who  had  some  credit  for  sense. 

Until  the  night  came  he  sat  listlessly  alone  in  his 
house,  or  moved  about  in  his  garden.  Every  window 
that  looked  down  upon  it  seemed  to  his  imagination 
shining  with  censorious  eyes.  Into  the  dark  he  went 
at  last,  and  night  came  as  a  friend. 

"Enemies  —  enemies,"  he  said  again  and  again  to 
himself  as  he  moved  along. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

ADVICE 

MANY  people  in  many  places  held  animated  con- 
verse over  the  strife  between  Pierce  and  Wolf- 
erstan ;  and  those  most  vitally  involved  both 
erred  in  their  conduct  upon  the  night  following  the 
pony-drift.  But  it  was  the  mistake  of  one  that  led  to 
the  error  of  the  other.  Ilet  expected  Wolferstan,  and 
even  went  a  little  way  towards  his  home  to  meet  him. 
He  did  not  come,  and  she  turned  restlessly  away  to  the 
Moor.  Anon,  she  found  herself  in  Oke  valley,and  then, 
pushed  by  some  sudden  impulse,  stopped  at  Fishcombe 
cottage  and  spoke  with  her  Aunt  Henny.  Abel  Pierce 
left  his  home  and  set  out  for  Okehampton  as  she  ap- 
proached. Ilet  saw  him  go  ;  otherwise  she  had  not 
entered. 

Elsewhere  the  Portreeve  climbed  to  the  dwelling  of 
his  friend,  Dicky  Barkell,  in  hope  that  the  signalman 
might  prove  a  valuable  counsellor. 

Richard  and  his  father  were  at  their  supper  before  he 
came,  and  old  Abner  had  detailed  the  catastrophe  at 
Halstock  Pound  with  his  usual  picturesque  but  scanty 
vocabulary.  Dicky  declared  the  incident  unfortunate 
but  not  surprising. 

"  Always  the  way  if  a  man  gets  his  head  over  the 
crowd,"  he  said.  "  Rise  up  above  your  fellows  by  the 
height  of  an  eyebrow,  and  they'll  be  like  so  many 
wolves  to  tear  you  down  again.  Once  down,  they'll 
be  friendly;  and  once  up  beyond  their  reach,  they'll 

79 


8o  THE    PORTREEVE 

be  quite  content  to  lick  your  boots ;  but  'tis  while 
you'm  fighting  to  rise.  Let  one  big-souled,  generous 
man  give  you  a  pat  on  the  back,  and  there'll  spring  up 
a  dozen  envious  little  curs  to  say  you  haven't  earned 
it.  'Tis  the  last  snap  of  their  teeth  afore  you  get 
beyond  the  reach  of 'em  for  ever.  Then  they'll  creep 
back  to  kennel,  and  the  next  generation  of  'em  will 
fawn  on  you.  I've  waited  to  see  Wolferstan's  enemies 
show  themselves.  'Twas  time  they  did.  If  a  man 
wants  to  get  in  front,  he  must  remember  the  drawback 
of  enemies.  I'm  one  who  wouldn't  think  the  game 
worth  the  candle  myself.  Better  to  keep  below  every 
man's  envy,  and  not  let  'em  know  you're  worth  envying 
—  same  as  you  an'  me." 

"  Just  what  you  can't  do  when  courting's  the  mat- 
ter," declared  Abner.  "  That  is,  unless  you  choose  a 
very  homely  piece  without  a  market.  But  a  splendid 
maiden  like  Ilet  Yelland  —  wonder  is  there  wasn't 
more  after  her.  There  was  bound  to  be  a  row  when 
she  cooled  oflf  to  Pierce." 

Dicky  nodded  and  Hghted  his  pipe. 

"Amazing  to  me:  to  fight  to  get  married!  I'd 
fight  to  escape  from  it,"  he  said. 

"  Beauty's  a  bar  to  a  female  in  my  opinion,"  con- 
tinued Abner.  "  When  I  was  looking  round,  I  turned 
from  the  bowerly  girls  ;  because  they  pretty  women 
always  think  that  to  be  pretty  is  enough." 

"So  it  is  —  up  to  the  point  of  catcjiing  a  husband," 
declared  the  signalman. 

"  Ess  fay  —  but  the  others  look  deeper.  'Tis  gener- 
ally allowed  by  sensible  females,  that  more  goes  to 
marriage  than  a  man.  The  plain  girls  know  they 
must  make  up  for  a  round  shape  and  red  lips  an'  gert 
eyes ;  an'  the  wise  ones  can  do  it  by  use  of  the 
intellects." 

"  I've  marked  that  myself,"  said  Dicky, 


ADVICE  8 1 

"It  is  so.  Your  mother  —  to  say  it  lovingly  —  was 
not  a  woman  as  anybody  looked  round  after ;  but  what 
a  masterpiece  in  a  kitchen  !  I  shall  always  mourn  your 
dear  mother  —  as  long  as  you  do  the  cooking,  Richard. 
As  for  Wolferstan  —  these  here  perfect  chaps  —  1  don't 
mean  I  believe  it  —  yet  —  when  you  get  men  as  teach 
in  the  Sunday-school  and  go  from  strength  to  strength 
by  day,  there's  often  a  night  side  to  'em." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  you  !  After  a  good  supper,  too, 
to  speak  so  uncharitable,"  said  Dicky.  "  Keep  out  of 
it,"  he  continued,  "  same  as  I  mean  to  do." 

"  Portreeve  will  have  to  prove  Pierce  be  a  liar,  ac- 
cording to  Farmer  Hext  an'  a  few  other  men  ;  while 
according  to  Ned  Perryman,  an'  the  Bailiff,  an'  old 
Westaway,  'tis  for  Pierce  to  make  good  his  charge  if 
he  can.  So  it  lies,"  explained  Mr.  Barkell ;  then  he 
suddenly  exploded  in  a  weak  and  rheumy  chuckle. 
"  Lord  !  to  see  the  way  Miss  Horn  from  Bowden 
jumped  on  Miller  Slanning's  son  !  He  was  against 
Dodd,  an'  she  called  him  a  noisy  coward  and  turned 
her  back  upon  him.  He  stood  glazing  out  at  the  world 
like  a  pig  just  stuck;  but  he  held  his  glass  in  his  eye 
firmly  through  it  all." 

Dickey  smiled.     "  I  can  see  him,"  he  said. 

"  All  the  women  will  be  against  Wolferstan  as  a 
general  thing,"   continued  Abner. 

"  Not  they  !  "  answered  his  son.  "  They  pull  faces 
in  company  ;  but  if  you  could  see  in  their  hearts,  you'd 
find  'em  perfectly  contented.  The  ruin  of  one  woman's 
a  left-handed  compliment  to  'em  all.  Childer  got 
wrong  side  the  blanket  are  a  walking,  living  advertise- 
ment to  their  power  over  us.  Wherever  was  the  sen- 
sible woman  as  wouldn't  marry  a  proper  man  because 
her  sex  had  been  too  much  for  him  afore  he  met  her  ? 
Ban't  likely.  There's  dozens  of  well-thought-upon, 
worthy  people  as  would  have  ten  wives  to-morrow  if 


82  THE    PORTREEVE 

the  law  allowed  it.  An'  'tis  the  men  as  make  the  laws, 
mind,  an'  always  will ;  so,  with  that  amorous  spirit  in 
the  land,  the  women " 

"  Stop  ! "  said  Abner,  lifting  up  his  long  clay  pipe 
in  a  threatening  attitude.  "Where  you  get  your  loose 
opinions,  dash  my  wig  if  I  know.  'Tis  certain  they 
never  comed  from  me,  an'  I  won't  hear  'em.  A  joke's 
a  joke,  but  when  you  talk  of  ten  wives,  you'm  break- 
ing all  bounds  of  decency.  There's  some  women  yet 
in  the  land  as  would  rather  bide  maids  than  marrv  a 
bad  chap  ;  an'  Ilet  Yelland's  one  of  'em.  I  had  speech 
with  her  backalong  after  the  pony  drift.  An'  she  was 
in  a  very  poor  way.  It  knocked  the  heart  out  of  her 
when  Dodd  lost  his  temper  and  scat  t'other  across  the 
face.  *  'Twas  not  like  the  Portreeve  to  do  it,'  she 
said." 

"  Not  like  one  side  of  the  man  she  knows ;  but 
'twas  perfectly  like  another  side  of  him  —  must  have 
been,  else  he  couldn't  have  done  it." 

"  Of  course  she  don't  believe  it  —  not  if  angels  said 
it  she  wouldn't  do  so,"  continued  the  old  man. 

"  Was  she  in  a  great  flare  with  Abel  Pierce  ?  " 

"  She  was  not,"  admitted  Mr.  Barkell.  "  Women's 
that  interesting  and  astonishing.  To  my  surprise,  she 
was  not.  She  reckons  there's  another  in  this  and  that 
Pierce  has  been  told  a  lie  and  deceived." 

The  man  in  their  thoughts  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
Abner  opened  to  him.  Old  Barkell,  seeing  the  visitor, 
let  Dodd  in  and  then  walked  out  himself.  He  guessed 
that  Wolferstan  had  come  to  visit  Richard,  and  so, 
mumbling  something  about  the  viaduct,  got  his  hat  and 
went  into  the  air. 

The  Portreeve  came  swiftly  to  his  business. 

"You'll  guess  why  I'm  here,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  terrible  sorry  to  hear  what  happened.  Light 
your  pipe  an'  take  a  chair." 


ADVICE  83 

"  Will  you  deny  I   had  every  provocation  ?     As  a 

man  suddenly  faced  with  a  wicked  lie  —  afore  the  world 

assembled,  so  to  say.     What  would  you  have  done  ?  " 

Dicky  mended  the  fire  and  decided  not  to  answer 

the  question. 

"  I'm  rather  sorry  you  looked  me  up  to-night,  and 
I'll  tell  you  why,"  he  said.  "You  understand  my 
way.  This  is  a  bad  business,  but  it's  not  my  business  ; 
an'  not  by  one  word  am  I  going  to  make  it  so.  I 
know  you  both  and  you're  both  my  friends." 

"  No  friend  of  his  can  be  mine  —  not  after  this 
morning." 

"There  it  is  !  I'm  sorry  to  the  heart  for  the  day's 
work.  But  not  a  word  more  than  that  shall  I  say  to 
either  of  you.  As  to  advice  —  I've  never  known  a 
friendship  bettered  by  giving  it,  and  no  man  I  care 
about  ever  had  mine,  or  ever  will.  When  you  an'  me 
want  to  quarrel,  then  I'll  begin  offering  advice  —  not 
sooner." 

"  No  man  can  believe  Pierce  and  remain  my  friend." 

"  If  that's  so,  you're  answered,  for  I  am  your  friend, 
and  I  always  hope  to  be." 

Wolferstan  now  sat  down  and  stared  into  the  fire. 

"You're  different  to  most  —  that's  why  I  came  to 
you,"  he  said.  "  You  never  get  hot  over  anything,  and 
don't  take  sides.  All  the  same,  ban't  what  I  call 
friendship." 

"  'Tis  the  best  I  can  do,  as  the  crab-apple  said,  when 
the  boy  bit  it  and  made  a  face." 

"  A  crab  you  are  :  sharp,  but  sound  at  the  core,  I 
suppose.  At  least  advise  me  this  —  where  to  go  for 
wisdom.  I'm  at  a  ticklish  pass  for  the  minute.  I 
never  knowed  I  should  ever  come  to  seek  an  opinion 
outside  myself  so  much  as  I  do  this  night." 

Richard  smoked  quietly. 
'Tis  breaking  my  own  rule  to  say  it.     Still,  since 


(t  >' 


84  THE   PORTREEVE 

you  ask.  ...  If  I  was  in  your  fix,  I'd  go  to  Ilet 
Yelland  afore  anybody  else  in  the  world." 

"  What's  the  sense  of  that  ?  My  good's  her  good  ; 
my  evil's  her  evil.  The  part  can't  heal  the  whole. 
How  can  she  help  ?  I  had  thought  to  find  her  at  my 
side  when  that  knave  lifted  his  voice  against  me  and 
the  world  turned  upside  down.  Her  place  was  surely 
there ;  but  she  kept  away  for  some  reason." 

"  Father  says  she  tried  to  come  at  you,  but  couldn't 
for  the  crowd  that  hemmed  you  round.  Besides,  how 
could  you  expect  a  maiden  to  push  forward  among  all 
they  men  ?  If  she'd  took  your  whip,  I  lay  you'd  have 
used  your  fist." 

"  That's  not  the  least  part  of  my  trouble  —  that  I 
lost  my  temper —  I  that  thought  I'd  tamed  my  temper 
to  stand  anything,  like  a  man  trains  a  dog." 

"  Temper's  a  cat,  not  a  dog.  'Tis  never  broke  in 
really.  They  tiger-tamers  generally  get  unpleasantly 
surprised  sooner  or  late ;  an'  so  do  you  hopeful  chaps 
that  think  you've  got  yourselves  in  hand.  Let  the 
right  moment  come  and  the  beast  will  out." 

"  I  wish  to  God  she'd  not  gone  to  the  drift." 

"  So    do    she.     My  father    walked    back  with  her. 

You  go  to  her,  old  chap ;  tell  her  the But  here 

am  I  doing  just  what  I  swore  not  to  !  " 

" '  Tell  her  the  truth,'  you  were  going  to  say.  And 
don't  she  know  the  truth  ?  Don't  she  know  me  to  my 
heart?     If  not  —  then  'tis  a  poor  case." 

"  Don't  lose  your  nerve  about  it." 

"I'll  go  to  no  man,  nor  woman  neither,  Dick:  I'll 
go  to  my  God  with  this,  and  only  Him." 

"  I  should  try  her  first,"  said  Richard,  drily.  "  Ban't 
the  time  to  keep  away  from  her." 

"  Thank  you  —  you  mean  well  in  a  worldly  sense. 
But  I  ought  to  have  looked  to  my  conscience  sooner 
—  then  I  shouldn't  have  come  here.     I  must  make  no 


ADVICE  85 

mistake  now.  I  must  ask  where  there's  an  answer 
ready   for  all  that  ask." 

"  So  you  believe,  I  know.  Perhaps  'twill  be  the 
same  answer  as  I  have  given  you." 

The  men  rose  and  went  to  the  door.  It  was  at  such 
moments  that  Wolferstan  found  his  friend  unsatisfying, 
for  Barkell  belonged  to  a  growing  order  and  stood  for 
that  sceptic  spirit  now  awake  and  alive  in  his  class, 
thanks  to  education  and  the  beginnings  of  scientific 
training.  He  suspected  the  vitality  of  the  old  order 
and  resented  all  interference  with  liberty  of  thought. 

Outside,  old  Barkell  smoked  his  pipe  and  looked  at 
the  viaduct,  where  it  loomed  huge  across  the  dark  valley. 

"  Good  night,  father,"  said  Dodd.  "  I  hope  you're 
not  thinking  the  worse  of  me  for  what  happened  up 
along. 

"I  hope  not;  I  hope  I'm  a  man  with  large  opin- 
ions, Portreeve.  This  here  gert  bridge,  which  be  my 
special  care  an'  which  I've  seen  grow  to  fulness,  like  a 
father  sees  his  child  —  it  do  teach  a  man  to  take  large 
opinions  an'  throws  light  on  life.  'Tis  almost  a  reli- 
gious thing  in  its  way,  I  do  assure  'e." 

"  'Tis  a  faithful  thing,  faithfully  put  together,  no 
doubt." 

"  More  than  that !  When  I  see  them  three  mighty 
piers  of  steel  springing  aloft,  I  do  think  of  Father,  Son 
an'  Ghost  —  Three  in  One,  an'  One  in  Three.  For 
what  would  one  be  without  t'others  ?  But  together 
they  hold  up  the  Bridge  of  Life,  same  as  these  here 
hold  up  the  railway." 

"  A  proper  thought.  All  parts  of  one  great  contriv- 
ance," admitted  Wolferstan.  "  A  man  must  take  'em 
all  in  all  to  get  the  full  blessing  of  'em." 

"All  —  or  none,"  answered  the  younger  Barkell. 
"  But  there's  more  railroads  than  one  to  Plymouth ; 
an'  more  highroads  than  one  to  goodness." 


86  THE   PORTREEVE 

"You'll  live  to  speak  otherwise,"  answered  the  Port- 
reeve shortly.  "  There's  only  one  true  way  that  leads 
there." 

Then  he  left  them  and  set  off  homewards. 

The  road  he  took  led  beside  Oke,  and,  at  Fishcombe 
cottage,  he  hesitated  and  looked  at  the  lonely  light  in 
the  valley.  But  he  went  upon  his  way,  and  presently, 
above  Sourton  village,  saw  the  colony  of  earth-born 
stars  that  twinkled  there  and  indicated  the  hamlet. 
He  thought  of  Barkell's  advice  and  his  own  resolve. 
Then  he  walked  forward  along  the  Moor-edge  and 
communed  with  religious  thoughts. 

The  nightly  darkness  of  Dartmoor  swelled  south- 
ward and  sank  in  featureless  ridges  of  gloom  :  while 
above  it  the  sky  presented  another  space  of  profound 
obscurity ;  but  between  the  two  was  light  where  a 
waning  moon  sailed  low  above  the  horizon  and  fretted 
the  clouds  around  her.  The  wind  blew  strongly  and 
the  planet  seemed  to  plunge  through  the  midst  of  a 
driving  sea  of  ebony  and  silver  mingled.  Ragged 
vapours,  touched  with  pearly  spindrift,  rolled  about 
her;  and  now  they  gulped  the  semicircle  of  cold  light, 
and  now  they  scattered  before  it,  as  the  foam  before  the 
prow.  Then  a  cloud-rift  widened  and  the  hills  and 
valleys  of  the  sky  were  touched  to  their  depths  with 
radiance ;  but  those  of  earth  remained  darkling. 


CHAPTER   IX 


ASK    PIERCE 


I  LET  YELLAND  won  small  comfort  from  her 
conversation  with  Abel's  mother.  The  old  woman 
was  in  a  rage,  and  her  bitterness  had  obscured  her 
judgment.  Her  son's  raw  face  had  entirely  altered 
her  opinion.  She  felt  astonished  to  see  her  niece,  but 
welcomed  the  opportunity  and  lost  no  time  in  forward- 
ing the  interest  of  Abel. 

"Poor  chap  —  if  he  don't  lose  his  eye  'twill  be  by 
the  mercy  of  God.  A  guilty  conscience  often  wakes 
the  devil  where  you'd  never  think  he  was  sleeping; 
an'  so  it  did  do  this  day." 

"  He's  not  guilty,"  said  Ilet,  "an'  well  Abel  knows 
it." 

"  I'd  have  said  the  same,  an'  did  say  the  same  a 
while  agone.  I  believed  in  the  man  till  this.  But 
now  —  no.  Take  care  you  never  put  yourself  under 
his  heel,  or  'twill  be  the  worse  for  you.  Abel's  right, 
an'  he've  only  voiced  what  others  think  —  voiced  it 
out  of  love  for  you  —  to  save  you.  He's  took  his 
poor  face  to  the  chemist  —  though  I  doubt  his  eye's 
touched  —  a  cruel  sight  —  as  if  a  tiger  had  clawed 
him." 

"  What  could  a  man  do,  suddenly  faced  with  this 
wicked  lie  ?  Abel's  ears  have  been  abused.  I'll  never 
forgive  him,  for  he  knew  Dodd,  an'  well  he  knew 
Dodd  couldn't  have  done  it.  Who  knows  the  truth 
of  Wolferstan  Hke  what  I  do  ?  " 

87 


88  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  I  tell  you  he  did  do  it  —  else  he'd  never  have  an- 
swered it  so." 

"  'Tis  just  how  your  son  would  have  answered  it 
himself,  I  reckon  ;  or  any  other  man  worth  calling  a  man. 
Dodd  !  Why,  he's  told  me  all  about  himself — all  — 
all  from  the  day  he  went  frightening  crows.  All  —  all 
his  hopes  and  fears  and  deeds,  past  and  future.  Was 
there  any  room  in  his  life  for  ruining  a  woman  ?  No, 
I  tell  you  —  nought  but  hard  work  from  morning  till 
night  —  always  —  Sunday  too.  Never  such  a  man  for 
work.     Pure  as  me,  I'll  take  my  oath  of  it !  " 

One  of  Henny's  slow  smiles  worked  up  to  her  face. 

"  You'll  know  more  about  'em  one  day.  There's 
some  sort  of  work  they'm  never  too  busy  for.  Told 
all !  So  we  think  —  generation  after  generation  of  us; 
an'  they  laugh.  As  likely  we  should  tell  'em  our 
maiden  thoughts,  as  they  should  let  out  their  bachelor 
deeds.  Ban't  nature.  You  take  a  larger  view  of  men 
folk,  llet,  an'  let  him  see  you  have.  If  you  must  have 
him  —  more  fool  you  —  be  sensible,  an'  don't  let  him 
laugh  at  your  blindness.  Take  him  with  your  eyes 
open  —  not  shut.  Then  he'll  respect  you  and  look  to 
leading  a  clean  life.  Yes,  I  believe  it  now ;  an'  other 
neighbours  too.  I  could  say  more  when  my  heart 
thinks  on  my  son.  The  patience  of  him  —  to  suffer 
that  bad  man's  scourge  for  you." 

"  'Twas  not  my  fault,"  she  said  sulkily. 

"  Nor  yet  his.  Truth's  truth ;  an'  for  love  of  you 
he  told  it  —  had  to  tell  it  —  not  for  hate  of  the  man. 
He's  no  hate  against  Wolferstan  :  but  your  happiness 
be  all  the  world  to  him.      He'd  die  for  'e." 

"Abel's  put  himself  in  reach  of  the  law,  they  say  at 
Sourton." 

"  Very  like.  Ban't  law-breaking  to  ruin  a  fool  of  a 
girl,  If  she's  wife-old ;  but  'tis  law-breaking  to  throw  it 
in  the  face  of  a  rascal  afterwards.     My  son's  not  afeared. 


ASK    PIERCE  89 

He  hopes  an'  prays  that  Portreeve  will  have  the  law 
of  him.     Two  can  play  at  that." 

"I'll  never  believe  it  —  never.  If  Wolferstan  said 
'twas  true,  I'd  not  believe  it." 

"  Well,  you're  a  pattern  of  woman  different  to  me. 
When  a  female  takes  a  man  with  her  eyes  shut,  'tis  a 
sort  of  marriage  as  breeds  more'n  children.  Ruin  your 
life,  if  you  like." 

"I'm  a  growed  woman  —  not  a  girl.  I  can  judge 
as  well  as  you  or  anybody  else,"  she  answered  with 
temper. 

"I  wish  you  could,  I  let,"  said  Mrs.  Pierce.  "  For 
your  own  sake  I  wish  you  could  see  that  this  hookem- 
snivey  man,  with  his  fair  face  an'  dark  story,  ban't 
worthy  to  hold  a  candle  to  my  Abel,  with  his  dark 
face  an'  honest  heart.  Better  go  now,  for  us  shan't 
get  to  see  alike  to-night.  We've  been  good  friends 
since  you  comed  amongst  us ;  an'  long  may  we  bide 
so.  I'm  sorry  to  my  innermost  core  for  'e ;  an'  I'll 
say  no  more." 

"  You  needn't  be  that,"  answered  the  other  stoutly. 
"Afore  long,  truth  will  out,  an'  you'll  know  I'm  right, 
and  your  son  wickedly  wrong," 

"  'Tis  only  wasting  words  to  hope  so.  Good  night, 
my  dear." 

And  while  Dodd  Wolferstan  walked  on  the  Moor 
and  made  a  long  round  to  Bridgetstowe ;  Ilet,  not  a 
mile  distant,  returned  dispirited  and  weary  homeward. 

She  asked  whether  her  lover  had  been  to  see  her, 
heard  that  he  had  not,  and  then  went  to  her  room. 
Through  sleepless  hours  the  charge  against  Wolferstan 
sank  into  a  lesser  thing  than  his  absence  after  it. 
Time  magnified  this  into  a  mountain  of  wrong.  By 
what  possible  right  had  he  kept  away  ?  For  what 
possible  reason  ?  If  he  called  for  comfort,  who  had 
such  power  to  bestow  it  and  pour  it  upon  him  as  she  ? 


go  THE    PORTREEVE 

And  if  he  stood  in  need  of  no  gentle  voice  to  come 
between  him  and  the  memory  of  Abel  Pierce's  hard 
one,  then,  surely,  he  might  have  thought  for  her  and 
all  that*^  this  incident  must  mean  from  her  point  of 
view. 

It  had  not,  indeed,  burst  upon  Ilet  with  the  horror 
of  complete  surprise  ;  but  Dodd  was  unaware  of  that, 
since  she  had  never  breathed  a  word  of  Abel's  dark 
hints.  So  far,  therefore,  as  Wolferstan  could  know, 
she  had  heard  the  charge  against  him  for  the  first  time 
that  day.  How  had  he  met  it?  Very  properly  by 
chastising  the  liar  before  those  who  had  heard  him  lie. 
For  that  she  did  not  blame  him.  And  then  he  had 
pushed  her  away  when  she  approached,  and  disap- 
peared. This  action  she  found  it  impossible  to  for- 
give. His  absence  now  did  much  to  unsettle  her, 
because  she  could  not  understand  it  and  had  no  suspi- 
cion that  he  too  felt  a  grievance.  Between  snatches 
of  sleep,  she  lived  again  through  the  scene  of  the 
pony-drift,  heard  the  laughter  of  men,  and  neighing  of 
horses,  the  uplifted  voice  and  the  thud  of  the  blow  on 
her  cousin's  cheek. 

She  rose  very  early  and  told  herself  that  she  would 
not  see  Wolferstan  for  a  week,  until  her  ideas  were 
orderly  and  her  mind  clear.  Then  she  changed  her 
intention  and  decided  to  see  him  at  the  earliest  pos- 
sible opportunity.  She  was  glad  to  plunge  into  the 
business  of  another  day.  She  forgave  him  and  trusted 
him,  and  doubted  not  that  he  would  swiftly  make  all 
plain. 

They  met  indeed,  even  sooner  than  Ilet  hoped; 
but  the  interview  fell  out  at  a  place  and  in  a  manner 
far  different  to  her  expectation. 

It  happened  that  Mrs.  Horn  wanted  the  character 
of  a  Sourton  girl  new  to  service,  and  old  Susan  Yel- 
land,  a  familiar  intelligencer  of  the  district,  had  been 


ASK   PIERCE  91 

appealed  to.  But  Mrs.  Yelland  was  no  penman,  and 
now  sent  a  message  to  Bowden  by  her  niece.  Thus  it 
happened  that  chance  took  Ilet  to  the  farm  at  an  un- 
fortunate moment,  and  the  accident,  better  than  a 
month  of  plotting,  fell  in  with  the  plans  of  Primrose 
and  advanced  her  intrigue. 

The  first  person  whom  Ilet  met  as  she  walked  up 
the  drive  to  Bowden,  was  Abel  Pierce.  He  worked 
on  a  field  that  spread  to  the  right  of  the  way,  and  was 
engaged  in  scattering  manure  upon  the  grass-lands. 
A  long  strip  of  plaster  stretched  down  the  side  of  his 
face.  The  man  took  no  notice  of  her,  but  she  stopped 
and  accosted  him. 

"  Be  your  eye  darkened  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  'Tis  nought,"  he  answered.  "  I  don't  care  If  it 
goes,  so  long  as  you  are  all  right.  Let  him  prove  I'm 
a  liar,  and  he  can  put  his  foot  on  my  neck  if  he 
pleases." 

"  It  was  an  evil  thing  to  tell  it  out  afore  the  world 

—  a  cruel,  wicked  thing.  If  he  hadn't  struck  you,  I 
should  have  if  I  could  have  got  to  you." 

"  'Twas  to  save  you." 

"  I'll  never  forgive  you,  Abel." 

"  I'd  never  want  you  to  if  I  lied ;  but  if  'tis  truth 

—  what  then?  What  has  he  said  to  you?  How  has 
he  proved  he  was  innocent?     Tell  me  that." 

"  I  haven't  seen  him  since." 

"  Haven't  seen  him  !  " 

"  An'  shan't  mention  the  subject  when  I  do.  I  feel 
as  I  felt  when  first  you  spoke  against  him.     I  scorn  it." 

"  Haven't  seen  him  !  Well,  go  up  to  the  house, 
an'  you  will  see  him." 

"  Is  he  there  ?  " 

"  Talking  to  Miss  Horn  at  the  door.  Maybe  she 
can  give  him  wiser  advice  at  this  pinch  than  you  can." 

"  What's  his  business  here?  " 


92  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Better  ax  him.  They've  been  telling  together 
half  an  hour,  anyway,  for  I  watched  'em  from  t'other 
end  of  the  field." 

She  went  on  her  way.  Then,  before  this  new  seed 
could  germinate,  Wolferstan  appeared,  riding  briskly 
along  the  road. 

"  I  was  coming  to  you  now,"  he  said,  as  though 
divining  her  thought. 

"  Why  for  didn't  you  come  yesternight  ?  " 

He  dismounted  and  stood  beside  her  with  his  horse's 
bridle  rein  through  his  arm. 

"  I  was  ashamed  to,  Ilet  dearest,"  he  said  quietly. 
His  voice  sounded  softer  than  hers,  which  was  high- 
pitched. 

"  Shamed  of  what  then  ?  " 

"  Ashamed  of  losing  my  temper  afore  the  world  — 
and  you." 

She  stared. 

"  There  be  times  when  a  man  ought  to  lose  his 
temper,  I  should  think.  You  might  have  been 
ashamed  if  you   hadn't." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  all  wrong.  I'm  a  Christian  man,  and  I'm 
playing  a  big  game  in  the  world.  Religion  and  sense 
both  were  against  me.  If  I  can't  govern  myself  better 
than  that,  how  be  I  going  to  get  to  the  top  ?  " 

His  propriety  irritated  Ilet  more  than  anger  could 
have  done.  She  kept  a  moody  silence  and  stood  with 
her  eyes  on  him. 

"  You  don't  want  my  pity  then,"  she  said. 

"  I  want  your  forgiveness.  I've  had  your  pity.  I 
know  that." 

"  You  want  me  to  forgive  you  for  thrashing  a  man 
as  told  a  wicked  lie  against  you  ? " 

"  That's  not  the  way  to  put  it.  Be  fair,  Ilet. 
My   thorn's    my  temper,   and   I    thought   I'd    got    it 


ASK    PIERCE  93 

under.  It's  hurt  me  cruel  to  find  what  I  am — after 
all." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  forgived  you  if  you  hadn't  beaten 
him.    'Twas  the  right  thing  to  do." 

"You  must  feel  different  to  that,  if  we  are  to  get  on 
in  the  world.  All  high  doing  be  built  on  self-control 
in  the  doer.  'Tis  out  of  sight ;  but  you'll  find  it  at 
the  foundation  of  every  big  man." 

"  I  wonder  you  don't  go  across  to  that  chap  spread- 
ing muck  in  the  field,  and  tell  him  you're  sorry 
then." 

"  No  need  to  sneer  at  me,  Ilet.  Very  likely  I  shall 
tell  him  so.  It's  clear  his  ear's  abused.  He's  heard 
this  thing  and  jumped  at  it  to  gain  his  own  ends." 

"  Like  a  lot  more  seemingly.  'Tis  for  you  to  make 
'em  come  to  your  feet,  not  to  go  whimpering  to  theirs, 
surely." 

"  Very  high-spirited  of  you  ;  but  there's  a  right  way 
and  a  wrong.     We  must  be  patient." 

"  You  choose  a  queer  time  for  patience,  if  you  ax  me." 

He  suppressed  a  flash  of  annoyance. 

"  You're  angry  I  didn't  come  to  you  yesterday ;  and 
to  tell  truth,  I  was  a  thought  angry  you  didn't  come  to 
me  at  the  drift." 

"  I  did  —  an'  you  pushed  me  away  as  if  I  was  dirt." 

"  I  hoped  you  would  have  come  quicker ;  but  of 
course  you  couldn't  —  not  through  that  crowd.  So 
let  that  pass.  I  ought  to  have  come  to  you  last  night, 
and  you're  right  to  be  vexed  with  me  for  not  coming." 

"  But  you  can  come  here.  Yesterday  my  heart  was 
bleeding  for  you.  I  wanted  to  be  standing  up  for  you 
and  taking  my  share  of  the  trouble  as  became  me. 
Didn't  I  smart  too  ?  Didn't  I  feel  every  word  he 
spoke  ?  Did  I  sleep  easy  last  night  ?  Didn't  I  roam 
halfway  to  Bridgetstowe  counting  to  see  you  at  every 
step  ?     You  shut  me  out  of  your  life  last  night  —  at 


94 


THE    PORTREEVE 


the  most  terrible  moment  you've  ever  faced.     That's 
what  I  can't  forget.     And  now  you're  up  here." 

"  We're  coming  to  the  truth  at  last,"  he  answered. 
"I  made  a  mistake  —  granted.  All  the  same,  you 
ought  to  have  known  me  well  enough  to  have  trusted 
me  through  it." 

"  What  do  I  know,  an'  what  don't  I  know  ?  I  know 
this  :  that  you  was  coming  to  me  after  talking  for  an 
hour  with  another  woman." 

He  started  in  astonishment. 

"  Clouds  —  clouds  blowing  up  from  all  four  quarters 
at  once,"  he  said,  half  to  himself  "  *  Let  him  that 
thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall.'  What  of 
that?  What  of  Miss  Horn  .''  I  came  on  business  to 
her  father  and  he  was  out ;  so  she  saw  me  instead.  Tou 
to  say  such  things  !  " 

"  You've  been  axing  her  how  to  get  out  of  this  mess, 
I  suppose  —  her  an'  not  me  ?  " 

The  man  flushed  up,  remembered  his  recent  resolu- 
tions, cooled  and  sighed. 

"  This  is  worse  —  far  worse  than  yesterday,"  he 
answered  sorrowfully.  "  D'you  want  me  to  wish  I'd 
never  seen  you,  Ilet  ?  " 

"  Better  for  me,  perhaps.  Anyway,  hear  this  :  you 
told  me  I  was  half  yourself,  and  I'm  content  with  no 
less  than  that.  The  man  I  marry  shan't  lead  a  life  I 
don't  share.  I'll  have  all  of  him,  or  none.  If  there's 
another  woman  that  he  can  go  to  in  the  first  fix  —  let 
him ;  an'  let  him  stop  with  her." 

"  You  can  say  these  things  ?  " 

"  Who  wouldn't  ?  To  come  to  me  from  her  !  She's 
told  'e  to  be  patient  and  forgive  everybody  and  ax 
everybody  to  forgive  you.  What  for  ?  For  Christian- 
ity, no  doubt.     An'  I  —  I  tell  you  to " 

"  Don't,"  he  said.  "  I'm  no  coward,  if  that's  what 
you  mean,  and  well  you  know  it." 


ASK    PIERCE  95 

"  The  religion's  a  coward  that  makes  you  beg  pardon 
of  liars.  An'  I  won't  marry  a  man  who's  gwaine  to 
cringe  to  the  world  an'  climb  by  crawling." 

"  You're  not  asked  to  plan  my  life,  Ilet ;  you're 
asked  to  share  it." 

"  I  won't  share  it  if  I   despise  it.     You  may  have  all 

the  vartues  in  the  Bible,  but  you've  none  for  me  if 

And  the  high  place  you'll  get  to  I've  no  wish  to  share, 
if  'tis  to  be  reached  by  licking  people's  boots  an'  taking 
the  opinion  of  rich  farmers'  darters  !  " 

"  You'll  do  well  to  mind  your  own  business,  and  let 
me  mind  mine,  I  think." 

"You  say  that  —  a  dirty  thing  like  that  to  the 
woman  you  want  to  marry  !  Ban't  your  business  mine  ^ 
Am  I  the  sort  to  sit  outside  my  man's  life,  an'  be  no 
more  part  of  it  than  the  post  of  his  garden  gate  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are,"  he  said,  his  own  tem- 
per wavering,  as  the  light  in  his  eye  revealed.  "You're 
a  very  unreasonable  sort  seemingly." 

A  pause  fell  between  them  and  in  the  interval  came 
great  cawing  of  rooks  where  they  lumbered  about  in 
the  mess  that  Pierce  was  scattering  upon  the  meadow. 

Suddenly  Ilet  spoke  and  poured  her  anger  into  one 
bitter  question.  Her  temper  had  got  beyond  control 
and  she  clenched  her  fist  like  a  man. 

"Be  it  true  or  ban't  it  —  what  Abel  Pierce  said? 
Perhaps,  though  so  unreasonable,  I'm  in  reason  to  ax 
that." 

Then  real  anger  woke  in  him  also. 

"  You  raise  that  evil  question  —  you  can  dare  ? 
You,  that  trusted  me  like  the  sun  to  light  to-morrow 
—  or   pretended    you   did!      You,    that    have    talked 

nought  but  pure  love  to  me  !    You  that  said Out 

on  you,  Ilet !  " 

She  remembered  all  that  Henny  had  spoken  the 
night  before. 


96  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  You're  only  a  man,  I  suppose  —  not  a  winged 
angel.  Men  have  ruined  women,  I  believe,  an'  kept 
their  mouths  shut  about  it.  I  only  want  you  to  un- 
derstand I'm  a  growed  woman,  not  a  know-nought 
fool  to  take  on  trust  all  a  man  in  love  may  say  in  a  hot 
minute.     Anyway  I'll  thank  you  to  answer." 

"  I'll  not  answer !  If  you  can  ask,  I'll  not  answer ! 
I've  answered  the  world  that  asked.  Those  that  knew 
me  never  did  —  my  betters  —  parson  —  gentlefolk  — 
a  score.  They  never  asked,  because  they  knew  the 
answer.  Those  mean  hearts  that  ask  ban't  worth 
answering." 

She  flamed  under  her  brown  skin  and  was  a  little 
frightened  at  his  furious  face. 

"  Think  what  you're  doing,"  she  said. 

"  Ban't  worth  answering,"  he  repeated,  and  his  voice 
throbbed  with  passion.  "  You  met  me  in  an  hour 
when  I  was  contrite  for  sin ;  when  I  was  looking  to 
my  God  to  help  me ;  when  I  was  feeling  a  hard,  cruel, 
unmerited  disgrace  ;  an'  —  an'  you  ask  me  this.  Ask 
Abel  Pierce  for  your  answer.     I've  done  with  you  !  " 

He  mounted  immediately  and  galloped  off,  while 
she  stood  and  stared  after  him.  Her  errand  was 
absolutely  forgotten,  and  now,  suddenly  turning  back, 
Ilet  went  slowly  homeward. 


CHAPTER   X 


THE    COMFORTER 


NIGHT   and    prayer    had  brought    peace  to  the 
Portreeve,  and  with   morning  there  had  come 

stout  resolves  to  do  his  duty.  It  was  not  by 
intention  that  he  met  and  spoke  with  Miss  Horn. 
Business  took  him  to  Bowden,  and  he  arrived  there 
to  find  Alexander  Horn  had  broken  an  appointment 
owing  to  the  sudden  arrival  by  post  of  affairs  more 
pressing.  The  farmer  was  gone  to  Exeter,  and  his 
daughter  carried  messages  to  Wolferstan  when  he 
arrived. 

But,  their  business  over,  Primrose  knew  how  to 
keep  him.  For  a  few  moments  conversation  turned 
to  private  matters,  and,  seeing  at  a  glance  Dodd's 
attitude  to  his  wrongs,  she  tuned  herself  to  the  same 
note.  He  was  in  a  patient  and  religious  frame  of 
mind ;  and  she  pretended  to  the  like.  She  bitterly 
scorned  the  accusation,  but  affected  no  astonishment, 
and  told  him,  as  Barkell  had  already  told  him,  that 
enemies  were  a  part  of  man's  inevitable  lot.  She  con- 
gratulated him  on  his  regrets  and  restored  self-control, 
and  said  that  it  was  religion  made  alive.  Upon  this 
highly  correct  attitude  Ilet's  more  defiant  and  natural 
mien  had  come  with  painful  force.  At  another  time 
her  just  wrath  had  possibly  comforted  Wolferstan  not 
a  little  ;  but,  for  the  present,  a  rather  unctuous  patience 
ruled  him.  His  own  loss  of  temper  begot  this  frame 
of  mind,  and  it  was  perfectly  genuine. 

H  97 


98  THE    PORTREEVE 

The  comment  of  the  world  assisted  to  compose 
him.  Few  could  discuss  with  patience  the  old  charge 
revived  ;  and  since  it  came  from  a  rejected  suitor,  the 
folly  and  falsity  alike  were  accentuated.  Keen  expres- 
sion of  regret  and  sympathy  greeted  Dodd ;  yet  even 
in  his  satisfaction  at  this  widespread  commiseration, 
the  Portreeve  felt  some  measure  of  concern,  for  the 
reason  that  it  was  so  universal.  The  scene  at  the 
drift  had  been  generally  reported.  All  men  appeared 
to  have  heard  of  it ;  and  while  not  a  few  were  actively 
angry  for  Wolferstan,  he  knew  not  what  larger  number 
might  be  indifferent,  or  how  many  others  held  an 
opinion  adverse  from  him. 

Upon  this  situation  had  come  the  rupture  with 
Ilet,  and  his  misery  increased  from  day  to  day.  Twice 
he  called  to  see  her  and  twice  she  refused  to  see  him. 
A  week  passed  ;  then,  between  intervals  of  work,  he 
went  up  to  Bowden  again,  and  again  saw  the  daughter 
of  the  house. 

To  his  surprise  she  was  able  to  tell  him  more  about 
his  sweetheart  than  he  had  learned  elsewhere;  but  Ilet 
did  not  come  first  in  their  discourse.  Primrose  was 
full  of  congratulations,  because  his  honey  had  taken  a 
county  prize  at  Plymouth,  and  a  mare,  with  foal  at 
foot,  exhibited  at  the  local  agricultural  show,  had  also 
won  first  honours. 

"  I  scored  a  triumph,  too,"  she  said.  "  My  dear 
old  '  Childe  the  Hunter'  won  again  in  his  class." 

"  Did  you  ride  him  yourself?  " 

"Of  course!      D'you  think  I'd  let  anybody  else?  " 

"  I've  been  so  occupied " 

"  We  all  wished  that  you  had  showed  yourself  as 
well  as  your  mare.  You  ought  to  have  been  in  the 
ring.  It  is  a  mistake  to  let  people  think  you  care  a 
button  for  this  business." 

"  It's  not  the  lie  —  it's  my  girl." 


THE    COMFORTER 


99 


"  Ilet  —  if  I  may  call  her  so.  Ilet  Yelland  ?  But 
surely  !  You  mean  she  is  feeling  this  bitterly  and 
doesn't  like  you  to  be  away  from  her  ?  " 

Dodd  reflected.  He  perceived  that  under  the 
present  delicate  conditions,  it  might  be  well  to  say 
as  little  as  possible  to  anybody  and  keep  his  tribulations 
to  himself  Moreover,  the  man  in  him  indicated  such 
a  course.  But  Primrose  was  not  like  a  stranger.  He 
kept  silent  now  and  the  woman  spoke  again,  softly 
and  warmly. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Wolferstan,  she  mustn't  be  down- 
hearted. Let  her  take  a  lesson  from  me,  if  she  will. 
I've  never  lost  an  opportunity  to  kill  this  lie.  I've 
killed  it  with  laughter  and  scorn.  Can  those  who 
know  you  for  one  instant  believe  folly  so  transparently 
wicked  ?  Your  life  is  the  answer.  She  must  champion 
you  with  laughter.  She  must  not  hide  herself  and 
her  tears.  She  must  be  with  you  always.  It  was  to 
separate  her  from  your  side  that  this  thing  was  done. 
Can't  she  see  that  ?  There's  nothing  to  cry  about. 
*  To  cry  about '  !  Rather  let  her  thank  God  on  her 
knees  for  such  a  man  !  And  let  her  be  thankful,  too, 
that  she  has  a  chance  to  show  the  stuff  she's  made  of" 

Her  voice  shook  a  little,  and  Wolferstan  gazed  at 
the  hand  she  had  laid  impulsively  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said.     "  I  wish  Ilet " 

"  Tell  her  from  me  to  be  brave,  and  remember  that 
all  the  world  thinks  as  she  thinks  in  this  matter.     It 
always  makes   us  brave   when  we  have  the  world  on. 
our  side.     But  I  think  I  should  be  braver  still  myself 
if  I  had  the  world  against  me." 

The  man  could  not  be  blind  to  her  enthusiasm. 

"  Few  women  are  so  plucky  as  you.  You're  like 
your  father.  Nought  shakes  you,  if  you  honour  a 
man  by  thinking  well  of  him.  My  Ilet  haven't  known 
me  so  long  as  you  have.     Her  own  cousin  says  this, 


loo  THE    PORTREEVE 

and  there's  more  behind,  if  we  could  only  find  what. 
Pierce  has  given  out  that  that  poor  dead  girl's  mother 
will  swear  she  accused  me  the  very  day  she  drowned 
herself." 

"  The  graver  the  charge,  the  prouder  she  must  be  to 
sweep  it  away  —  Ilet." 

"  Trust  you  to  know  a  woman  !  At  any  rate  a 
good  one.  I'll  wager  that  'tis  even  thus  my  Ilet's 
thinking  and  doing.  I  must  see  her  —  and  yet,  you 
see,  I  must  be  just.  This  has  come  as  a  terrible  shock 
upon  her.  i  Her  mind  moves  slower  than  yours, 
because,  of  course,  she's  not  had  the  advantages  of 
education  that  you  have." 

Primrose  nodded  thoughtfully.  Then  she  risked 
a  bold  sentiment.  J^ 

"  Sometimes  I  wish  you'd  not  married  out  pf  your 
own  station,  Dodd." 

The  subtlety  of  the  compliment  pleased  hi^m  uncon- 
sciously. 

"Not  that.  She's  far  above  me — such  steadfast- 
ness and  humbleness  —  such  a  one-thoughted  woman 
as  she  is." 

"  But  there's  a  danger  with  one-thoughted  people, 
as  you  call  them.  They  see  a  thing  clear  enough,  but 
they  don't  see  it  whole  —  like  we  see  the  moon.  Yet, 
though  not  always  wise,  that  way  is  wise  enough  over 
this  wretched  affair.  All  of  us  are  one-thoughted  in 
this." 

"  I'll  see  Ilet  to-night,"  he  answered  with  great 
determination.  "  I'll  put  it  before  her  as  you  see  it. 
Not  that  there's  any  need;  still,  I'll  tell  her  how  it  is 
with " 

"  Not  with  me.  Speak  generally.  Treat  the  thing 
lightly.  Beg  her  not  to  be  too  serious.  Why,  what 
madness  and  moonshine  —  worse  than  Jack  o' Lantern 
in  a  bog !     Ton  to  dishonour  any  man  or  woman  either ! " 


THE    COMFORTER  loi 

"She'll  think  the  like  for  certain." 

"Of  course  she  will  —  she  must.  Why  not  go  to 
her  at  once  ^  You  can.  Ilet  I  mean.  She's  here 
this  morning  with  a  message  for  my  mother." 

The  Portreeve  started  and  grew  very  red.  He 
tugged  his  moustache  and  stared  uneasily  round,  as 
though  he  expected  actually  to  see  his  sweetheart.  He 
exhibited  this  uneasiness,  because  he  believed  that  if 
Ilet  saw  him  talking  with  Miss  Horn,  she^  would 
probably  pass  by  without  acknowledging  his  existence. 
The  position  was  delicate,  for  he  had  naturally  been 
loyal  to  his  betrothed  and  given  Primrose  no  hint  that 
relations  were  strained  between  them. 

While  he  hesitated  she  spoke  again. 

"  I'll  see  her  if  you  like.  That's  a  generous  offer  — 
more  generous  than  you  can  guess." 

She  laughed  lightly,  that  the  words  should  carry  just 
their  proper  significance  and  no  more. 

"  It  is  good  of  you  to  suggest  it,"  he  said  ;  "  but  no 

—  out  of  the   question.      I'll   speak  about  it  to-night 

—  not  now.     In  fact,  I  must  hurry  up  at  once.     I've 
business  in  Okehampton  to-day." 

They  stood  near  Bowden  gate  ;  and  now,  looking  up 
the  long  drive,  Primrose  saw  Ilet  Yelland  returning 
from  the  house.  The  message  that  she  had  forgotten 
some  days  before  was  just  delivered  in  response  to  a 
second  letter  from  Mrs.  Horn. 

Dodd  prepared  to  depart. 

"  To-night,"  he  repeated  ;  "  not  before.  Don't  say 
you've  been  talking  to  me,  if  you  please.  She's  in  a 
very  excited  and  agitated  frame  of  mind,  naturally 
enough,  and  not  quite  herself.  Thank  you  for  all 
you've  said  to  me.     I  value  it.     Good-bye." 

His  leave-taking  was  extremely  hurried,  and  with- 
out difficulty  the  woman  perceived  that  Dodd  had  no 
wish  to  meet  his  sweetheart  then  or  there. 


I02  THE   PORTREEVE 


cc 


Tell  her  to  keep  a  brave  heart  and  be  worthy  of 
you  !  "  she  cried  after  him ;  and  presently  she  turned 
to  meet  Ilet. 

Wolferstan  had  expressly  asked  her  not  to  mention 
him.  Therefore  she  designed  to  make  the  advancing 
woman  take  the  initiative  if  possible.  She  hoped  that 
Ilet  had  seen  her  lover  depart,  but  this  was  not  the 
case. 

The  younger  gave  a  slight  gesture  of  recognition 
and  was  hastening  by,  when  Primrose  came  to  her  side 
and  extended  her  hand  quickly.  She  smiled  and  did 
not  speak  until  a  warm  pressure  had  been  planted  on 
Ilet's  palm. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you,  Miss  Yelland.  I've 
wanted  to  see  you  again  ever  since  we  first  met.  I 
don't   really  think   you've   been   out  of  my  thoughts 


once." 


She  angled  to  ascertain  how  Ilet  stood  to  the  tragedy, 
because  a  vagueness  in  the  Portreeve's  voice  and  words 
had  convinced  her  that  he  was  evading  the  truth.  As 
for  the  younger  woman,  a  strong  dislike  towards  Prim- 
rose had  ruled  her  mind ;  but  it  was  based  on  nothing 
substantial.  Her  jealousy  had  cooled,  for,  with  thought, 
came  the  conviction  that  it  was  folly.  A  sense  of  in- 
difference and  loneliness  filled  her  life.  She  only 
waited  for  Wolferstan  to  come  again  to  see  her.  At 
this  moment  she  felt  too  forlorn  to  fight. 

"Thank  you,  I'm  sure  —  you  mean  the  trouble  at 
the  drift.     'Twill  come  right." 

"  Men  are  what  we  make  them,  Ilet  —  if  I  may  call 
you  *  Ilet.'  " 

The  sentiment  had  no  apparent  point,  but  was 
spoken  with  an  object. 

"I  suppose  they  are,  Miss — unless  men  are  what 
they  make  themselves.  Anyway  'tis  so  with  my  man. 
*  My  man  '  I  say,  but " 


THE    COMFORTER 


103 


"  Very,  very  few  people  believe  It.  It  will  be  for- 
gotten in  a  month  or  two.  The  trial  is  really  a 
blessing  in  disguise  for  you,  because  men  who  love  us 
like  to  see  if  we  are  strong  enough  to  stick  to  them  in 
trouble  as  well  as  prosperity." 

"  'Tis  a  very  serious  matter." 

"  You  think  that  because  you  have  seen  so  little  of 
the  world  yet.  In  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Wolferstan  it  is 
nothing  at  all.  If  it  was  even  true,  a  real  woman's 
love  wouldn't  flicker  at  It  —  at  any  rate  not  a  wise 


woman  s." 


"  '  True  '  ?  " 

"  Men  are  what  we  make  them,"  said  Primrose 
again.  "  If  a  girl's  a  fool,  there's  always  a  man  in 
reach  to  prove  her  one.  Men  are  silly  children  where 
we  are  concerned.  If  we  offer  sugar-plums  to  children, 
do  we  blame  them  for  picking  them  up  ?  What  should 
we  think  of  a  child  that  didn't  —  or  a  man  that  didn't  ? 
You're  not  going  to  marry  a  sanctimonious  prig, 
and  I  don't  suppose  you  want  to.  Don't  let  this 
incident  waste  a  moment  of  your  thoughts.  You 
couldn't  if  you  really  loved  him." 

"  'Tis  because  I  really  love  him  that  It  do." 

"  He's  denied  It,  hasn't  he  ?  Then  surely  there's 
an  end  of  the  matter." 

A  searching  and  intense  look  came  Into  Ilet's  eyes. 
She  was  wondering  whether  she  could  trust  this  woman, 
and  feehng  with  all  her  heart  that  she  could  not.  She 
yearned  indeed  for  a  confidante ;  she  stood  in  need  of 
advice  ;  the  folly  of  her  denial  of  Wolferstan  was  not 
hidden  from  her  ;  yet  she  had  so  far  miserably  persisted. 
Now  there  came  a  sudden  longing  to  see  him. 

The  unhappy  lover  in  her  desired  to  confess  to 
Primrose  and  hear  the  other  chide  her  folly ;  but  the 
woman  in  her  kept  her  dumb.  Soon  she  felt  thankful 
that  she  had  not  spoken ;  for  Miss  Horn  now  tried 


104  THE   PORTREEVE 

another  line  by  which,  if  possible,  to  learn  a  little 
more. 

"  Your  silence  shows  me  that  you  are  not  quite 
satisfied  with  his  denial,"  she  said,  meeting  Ilet's 
straight  glance  with  one  as  steady.  "  That's  madness, 
Ilet  —  it  is  indeed.  Listen  to  me — I  who  have 
known  him  so  much  —  not  better  —  but  so  much 
longer  than  you  have.  Don't  be  too  hard  on  him, 
whatever  you  think.  To  doubt  his  word  —  I  tell  you 
again  it  is  madness.  Whether  he  speaks  the  truth  or 
not,  his  word  must  always  be  the  trumpet  of  truth  to 
you  —  if  you  want  to  live  a  happy  woman." 

"  What  advice  be  that !  So  well  tell  me  to  put  out 
my  eyes  that  I  may  see  nought  ugly  no  more,  or  stop 

my  ears  —  or I'm  not  a  fool.     'Tis  only  right 

an'  just  that  he  should " 

She  broke  off  again,  suddenly  overcome  by  caution. 

"  I  know  you  mean  kindly  to  me,  and  I  thank  you, 
Miss ;  'twill  come  right,  no  doubt." 

"  There's  every  doubt,  my  dear  Ilet.  I  can  see  the 
doubt  in  your  eyes  and  hear  it  in  your  voice.  You 
have  made  me  very  sad  —  sad,  because  I'm  so  power- 
less. You're  such  a  fortunate  girl,  if  you  could  only 
see  It. 

The  other  bristled  with  suspicion  instantly. 

"  Has  he  asked  you  to  speak  to  me  ? " 

"  No ;  indeed  he  asked  me  not  to  do  so.  But  I  do 
believe  he's  very  miserable." 

"  Not  my  fault." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it.  'Tis  his  own  sensitive  nature. 
He  didn't  tell  me  that  you  were  —  what  I  find. 
You've  told  me  that  yourself.  That's  why  I'm  sad. 
If  you  can't  fight  the  world  for  him  and  help  to  roll 
away  these  dark  clouds  that  are  crowding  down  upon 
him  and  —  and  —  so  on,  who  can  ?  " 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  " 


THE    COMFORTER  105 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  be  a  little  selfish  and  see 
how  silly  you  are,  from  the  standpoint  of  your  own 
prosperity.  Think  of  being  his  wife  —  the  social 
meaning  of  it  alone." 

"  Don't  say  things  like  that !     What  d'you  think  I 

be  made  of.^"      Do  trash  like  that  count  against ? 

There,  I'll  go ;  we'm  long  ways  off  from  thinking 
alike,  if  you  can  speak  so  foolish  as  that." 

"  I  merely  wanted  to  remind  you  of  what  you've  ut- 
terly forgotten  :  that  you're  a  very  fortunate  woman." 

Primrose  harped  on  this,  finding  that  no  argument 
could  better  answer  her  purpose,  and  worse  meet  Ilet's 
case. 

"  Why,  you'll  rise  —  Heaven  knows  how  high.  To 
sulk  over  this,  like  a  child  !  For  it  is  childish  —  and 
dangerous  too.  The  man's  not  made  of  patience  — 
no  man  is.  Take  my  advice :  forget  Minnie  Masters, 
and  go  to  him  as  his  future  wife  should  do,  and  ask 
him  to  forgive  you  for  not  coming  quicker.  Do  that ; 
or  I  shall  seriously  doubt  if  you  are  quite  worthy  of 
im. 

Ilet  stared  at  this  startling  counsel. 

"  What's  this  you  be  saying  to  me  ? "  she  asked 
almost  helplessly.  "  You  —  you  !  Who  are  you  to 
say  such  things  —  or  me  to  bide  and  listen  to  'em? 
How  can  the  likes  of  you ?  " 

"  I'm  interested." 

"  So  I  see.      Interested  to  do  what  ?  " 

"To  make  you  friends  again,  I  imagine.  What 
other  interest  can  I  possibly  have  ?  D'you  doubt  me 
too  ?     I  only  want  to  comfort  you." 

The  other  gasped. 

"  I  be  going  daft,  I  think,"  she  said.  "  Better  you'd 
took  his  advice  anyway,  and  not  spoke  to  me." 

"That's  true — if  I  haven't  made  you  a  thought 
more  sensible.     Yet,  think  quietly  and  calmly  of  what 


io6  THE    PORTREEVE 

I've  said,  and  you'll  see  how  well  meant  was  every 
word.  I'm  a  little  older  than  you  and  better  know 
the  dangers  and  temptations  of  the  world.  Try  and 
be  wise ;  that's  all ;  try  very  hard  to  be  wise,  I  let 
Yelland,  before  it's  too  late." 

Primrose  turned  away  a  few  paces  ;  then  she  stopped 
and  came  back  again. 

"  Remember  I  am  not  prejudiced  —  only  deeply 
interested  in  the  future  of  Mr.  Wolferstan  —  as  so 
many  are.  If  I  can  believe  him — surely  you  —  good- 
bye !  " 

She  broke  off  and  went  homeward  ;  while  Ilet,  with  a 
sort  of  congested  pressure  of  brain,  stood  for  the  mo- 
ment powerless  to  formulate  a  clear  pathway  through 
this  thicket  of  ideas  now  spread  before  her.  One 
obvious  fact  at  least  appeared:  the  Portreeve  had 
again  seen  and  spoken  with   Miss  Horn. 

That  night  Wolferstan  called  once  more  upon  his 
sweetheart :  and  he  was  very  urgent,  because  business 
immediately  took  him  away  to  North  Devon.  But 
she  refused  to  see  him. 


CHAPTER   XI 


TWO     LETTERS 


ABEL  PIERCE  was  working  at  the  great  stone 
quarry  that  gapes  in  the  hill  near  Meldon  Via- 
duct, and  it  happened  that,  returning  to  Oke- 
hampton  on  a  mineral  waggon,  he  met  Dicky  Barkell, 
who  had  seized  the  opportunity  to  travel  to  the  station 
in  the  same  manner.  Pierce,  though  he  held  the 
signalman's  opinions  of  little  practical  value  in  the 
affairs  of  life,  yet  respected  his  wits  and  now  asked  him 
a  question  or  two. 

"  I  know  you  try  to  be  friends  with  all,"  he  said  ; 
"  so  I  suppose  you  know  Ilet  Yelland  have  thrown 
Wolferstan  over  ?     At  least  I  fancy  so." 

"  Better  leave  that.  You've  fancied  a  good  deal  too 
much  lately." 

"  There's  no  fancy  about  one  thing.  The  man 
ruined  that  poor  damned  girl ;  an'  now " 

"  Drop  it.  I  won't  hear.  You  come  very  badly 
out  of  this." 

"  What  do  I  care  so  long  as  I  get  her  ?  " 

"  He's  a  long  way  straighter  man  than  you,  and  you 
know  it." 

"  Straight  or  crooked  —  wait  till  you're  after  a 
woman." 

Dicky,  with  his  usual  love  for  generalities  and  his 
unmoral  indifference  to  actions,  began  to  speculate. 

"  We'm  compounded  —  like  doctor's  caucheries,"  ^ 
he  said.     "  I  mean  our  characters.     Love  of  females 

i  Caucheries  —  medicine. 
107 


,o8  THE    PORTREEVE 

is  in  you  ;  an'  love  of  childer ;  but  love  of  plain  deal- 
ing ban't.  You  was  bound  to  do  a  bit  of  harm  if  the 
world  crossed  you." 

"  Words  do  fall  out  of  you  like  feathers  off  a 
goose  ! " 

"  That's  my  nature  —  that's  how  I'm  compounded," 
said  the  other.  "  I  love  to  read  wisdom  and  spit  it 
out  again." 

"  The  question  in  my  mind  —  but  there,  why  should 
1  tell  you  ?  But  this  I'll  tell  you  —  Dodd  Wolferstan 
won't  have  her  now." 

"  Maybe  she  weren't  worth  having.  He'd  make  a 
better  husband  than  ever  you  would." 

"  You  think  so." 

"  I  know  so.  That  man's  idea  of  love  would  be  a 
comfortable  house  wi'  a  tweeny-maid  to  help  his  wife, 
and  smart  clothes  for  her.  Yours  would  be  to  make 
her  the  mother  of  an  army  of  children  and  chance  the 
rest. 

"You  preach  like  a  Gospeller." 

"Not  me  —  too  large-minded,  I  hope.  I  wouldn't 
like  to  make  my  living  driving  souls.  All  for  liberty 
of  mind  I  am.  I  want  to  live  in  a  world  where  there's 
nought  to  stop  men  doing  good  and  everything  to 
stop  'em  doing  evil.  That's  not  the  church  people's 
way,  worse  luck.  They  are  trying  to  hide  the  truth, 
like  sailors  pour  out  oil  to  still  the  sea.  Truth's  too 
rough  for  their  leaky  tub.  In  my  world,  you  and  such 
as  you  wouldn't  be  able  to  carry  on  with  your  lies  a 
week." 

"  You'll  be  so  like  to  go  to  hell  for  your  devilish 
opinions  as  me  for  my  deeds.  Only  you'll  have  had 
nought  for  'em  ;  I  shall  get  my  reward  where  I  want 
it  —  in  this  world.     Next  don't  matter." 

"  They'm  throwing  hell  over  now,  so  Wolferstan 
tells  me,"  answered  Barkell.     "  Though  'tis  an  ungrate- 


TWO    LETTERS 


109 


ful  part  in  the  parsons.  Hell  have  been  a  very  good 
friend  to  them  —  made  'em,  you  might  say." 

"  Like  a  newspaper  'tis  to  hark  to  you.  An'  here's 
a  bit  of  news  for  yours.  'Twas  that  I  meant  to  tell 
you.  There's  no  call  to  pity  Wolferstan  no  more. 
He's  not  sorry  for  this  at  heart.  He  don't  want  her 
now — not  since  he's  had  such  a  deal  of  comfort  to 
Bowden.  Ilet's  seen  that  clear  enough,  whatever  else 
she  didn't  see.  Wonder  was  she  didn't  sooner.  That 
farmer's  darter  be  fifty  times  more  to  him  than  ever 
Ilet  was.  Portreeve's  gone  away  now,  to  let  the  thing 
cool  off,  no  doubt." 

"  You're  a  venomous  toad,  Pierce,"  said  Dicky  with- 
out emotion.  "  A  very  dangerous,  headlong  man. 
You'd  better  have  a  care  —  else  you'll  end  your  days 
in  klink  yet.     Talk  about  conscience  !  " 

"  I'll  live  my  life  out  anyhow.  I'd  sooner  be  a 
maggot  in  a  pear  than  you.  All  the  same,  maggots 
often  have  a  rough  awakening.  You  may  find  every- 
thing worth  anything  in  the  world  rolled  up  in  one 
woman's  clothes  yourself  some  day." 

"  'Twould  be  a  rough  awakening,  certainly,"  admitted 
Dicky  ;  then  the  truck  stood  still  and  they  parted. 

The  next  morning,  while  Pierce  continued  to  won- 
der whether  the  hour  was  ripe  for  approaching  Ilet, 
there  came  to  him  a  letter;  and  by  the  same  post  she 
also  received  one.  They  were  from  the  man  who 
filled  both  their  minds. 

Wolferstan  was  glad  to  escape  for  a  moment  from 
the  immediate  atmosphere  of  his  home.  He  had 
entered  on  a  little  tour  in  North  Cornwall  for  the 
Beekeepers'  Association  ;  and  while  by  day  he  visited 
hives  and  improved  the  local  knowledge  of  scientific 
apiary,  he  had  much  leisure  at  night  to  consider  his 
own  affairs. 


no  THE    PORTREEVE 

After  Ilet's  third  refusal,  the  Portreeve  fell  back 
upon  himself  and  fought  his  battle  alone.  It  was  not 
true  that  he  had  again  gone  to  Bowden  ;  but  Pierce 
only  obeyed  orders  when  he  spoke  vaguely  of  re- 
peated visits  there.  Wolferstan  had  sought  and 
gleaned  help  at  the  highest  source  he  knew.  He  had 
taken  his  faith  and  his  trusting  heart  to  his  God,  and 
found  an  answer  there.  To  him,  at  this  stage  of  his 
career,  religion  was  a  large  part  of  life —  no  mere  out- 
ward adornment  to  be  paraded  in  public,  with  a  view 
to  increasing  credit  in  pious  circles  —  but  a  live,  neces- 
sary and  precious  thing.  It  belonged  to  him  as  an 
intrinsic  ingredient  of  character ;  and  whether  experi- 
ence of  life  would  shake  it,  or  lessen  its  vitality,  only 
life  could  show.  The  real  beauty  and  the  real  power 
proper  to  faith  were  a  little  understood  and  a  great 
deal  unconsciously  displayed  in  practice  by  him.  The 
man,  in  no  vain  phrase,  was  a  servant  of  his  Master  — 
a  working  Christian  and  a  believer  in  the  dogmas  and 
directions  of  his  creed.  The  Protestant  Church  owned 
no  spirit  more  steadfast ;  could  boast  no  disciple  who 
trusted  and  obeyed  her  more  thoroughly  than  Dodd 
Wolferstan.  To  waver  or  seek  a  new  thing  had  never 
occurred  to  him.  Dicky  Barkell's  sceptic  attitude  was 
not  understood  by  him,  and  he  felt  no  sympathy  with 
it.  The  circumstance  sometimes  puzzled  him,  some- 
times angered  him.  They  rarely  argued,  since  the 
Portreeve  had  no  logic.  He  merely  lived  in  hope 
respecting  his  friend,  and  used  the  earnest  Christian's 
familiar  formula  when  faced  with  an  infidel  but  other- 
wise respectable  fellow-being. 
He  often  said  — 

"  You  will  know  better  some  day.* 
Whereupon  the  railwayman  always  made  one  answer: 
"  I  want  nothing  better  than  to  know  better." 
The  Portreeve's  love  increased  rather  than  waned 


TWO    LETTERS  iii 

under  his  denial.  One  thing  at  least  he  learned  during 
these  days  :  that  to  live  without  Ilet  would  be  a  hard 
and  a  cruel  matter.  He  suffered  much  and  deeply, 
while  she  continued  to  pay  his  unconscious  errors  by 
refusal  to  see  him.  Her  attitude  was  now  largely  the 
result  of  misrepresentation.  His  anger  and  refusal  to 
answer  the  charge  against  him  were  as  nothing  ;  for 
that  rebuke  she  knew  she  had  deserved  ;  but  now  she 
believed  that  he  was  constantly  at  Bowden,  and  the 
fact  had  gone  far  honestly  to  lessen  her  devotion.  So 
long  as  he  visited  Primrose  Horn  at  noon,  she  was 
determined  that  he  should  not  see  her  at  night. 

Then  there  came  to  Wolferstan,  as  he  imagined,  an 
answer  to  his  prayers  for  guidance  ;  and  it  entered  his 
mind  to  write  letters  both  to  Ilet  and  to  Pierce. 

These  words  reached  the  woman,  and,  after  hesita- 
tion, she  read  them :  — 

''  Stratton, 

"  N.  Cornwall. 
"  My  dear  Ilet, 

"  As  you  won't  see  me,  I  can  only  hope  you  will  be 
gentler  with  a  letter  and  at  least  read  it.  I  have  had  little  on 
my  mind  since  that  sad  day  when  we  quarrelled  but  sorrow 
for  my  wrong-doing.  Things  had  fretted  me  badly  and, 
somehow,  when  I  found  you  could  ask  me  in  cold  blood  if  I'd 
ruined  a  woman,  it  made  me  rage.  But  I  was  very  wrong  not 
to  keep  my  temper  and  answer  you  quietly.  I  ask  you  to  for- 
give me  for  saying  harsh  and  unkind  things  to  you,  and  I 
swear  before  God  my  Maker  that  I  never  touched  that  poor 
girl,  Minnie  Masters.  I  only  knew  her  to  give  her  '  good 
day  '  when  we  met ;  and  long,  long  ago  when  an  evil  rumour 
joined  my  name  to  hers  after  her  death,  I  showed  in  the 
light  to  all  men  that  the  thing  was  impossible.  All  who 
knew  me,  knew  it  was  impossible  without  my  showing.  I 
say  to  you,  Ilet,  that  if  this  was  the  last  word  I  should  ever 
write,  I  am  innocent  before  God  and  man  both.  And  if  I'd 
had  ten  thousand  more  temptations  than  ever  I  did  have,  they 


112  THE    PORTREEVE 

would  have  been  nothing  to  a  man  like  me.  Would  any 
man  with  my  opinions  and  hopes  for  the  future  go  out  of  his 
way  to  wreck  everything  at  the  start  by  fouling  his  good  name 
and  ruining  his  career  that  way  ? 

"  I  can't  say  no  more  except  that  without  you,  my  life 
will  be  a  half-finished  thing  and  a  sad  business  at  best.  Don't 
let  their  evil-speaking  keep  you  away  from  me,  dear  Ilet.  If 
there's  anything  still  said  against  me  that  I  don't  know  about, 
tell  me  what  it  is,  and  I'll  explain  everything  and  never  blame 
you  again  for  asking. 

"  I  have  written  to  Abel  Pierce,  and  I  know  by  now  you've 
changed  your  mind  about  wanting  me  to  be  angry  with  him 
any  more.  What's  the  good  of  that  ?  I  want  to  help  the 
man  to  be  wiser.  You  can  see  my  letter  to  him  if  you 
like. 

"  If  you  won't  marry  me,  Ilet,  I  must  live  my  life  without 
you;  but  I  can't  think  'tis  so  bad  as  that  between  us.  But  if 
you  will,  and  if  you  have  forgiven  me,  please  to  meet  me  on 
Saturday  next  up  to  Yes  Tor.  I've  a  feeling  to  meet  you 
there,  where  first  I  asked  you  to  take  me,  and  where  you  said 
'  yes  '  so  sweet,  with  nought  between  us  and  heaven.  If  the 
day's  fair  I'll  be  up  there  by  noon.  Come,  Ilet,  for  my  days 
are  empty  and  my  heart  is  very  heavy. 

"  Your  own  affectionate  lover, 

"  DODD    WOLFERSTAN." 

To  Abel  Pierce  the  Portreeve  wrote  thus :  — 

"  Stratton, 

"  N.  Cornwall. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Pierce, 

"  This  comes  to  tell  you  that  I  am  very  sorry  I  struck  you 
before  the  people  at  Halstock  Pound  a  while  back,  and  I  hope 
you'll  forgive  my  foolish  anger  and  passion.  By  this  time  I 
trust  that  you  have  found  out  that  the  thing  you  said  against 
me  was  an  old,  false  fable  with  no  shadow  of  truth  to  it,  and 
that  you  were  wickedly  misinformed,  and  that  those  who 
so  wickedly  misinformed  you  ought  not  to  be  trusted  in 
anything. 


TWO    LETTERS  113 


(C 


Knowing  what  love  of  woman  is,  I  can  understand  while 
you  believed  this  lie  you  were  tempted  to  use  it  against  me  ; 
and  that  you  even  believed  it  yourself,  because  you  wished  to 
do  so.  But  it  was  an  evil  weapon  to  use  against  any  man, 
and  I  hope  the  trouble  and  mischief  you've  made  will  be  a 
lesson  to  you. 

"  I've  written  to  Ilet  and  asked  her  to  meet  me  and  make 
it  up,  for  though  the  lie  was  a  cruel  one,  yet  I  had  no  right  to 
lose  my  temper  and  fall  into  a  rage  with  her  or  with  you.  I 
won't  believe  you  brought  this  up  against  me  single-handed, 
but  if  you  did,  I  pray  to  God  your  heart  will  be  touched  to 
confess  it  to  Him,  and  to  ask  Him  to  pardon  you.  And  if 
I've  got  any  other  unknown  enemy  that  helped  you  out  of  his 
evil  heart  against  me  and  tried  to  ruin  me  with  Ilet  and  with 
the  world,  then  you  may  tell  him  what  I  tell  you  :  that  I 
forgive  him  for  his  wickedness,  as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven 
myself. 

"  If  my  girl  comes  to  me,  as  full  sure  I  think  she  will,  that 
ends  it ;  if  she  does  not,  then  the  crime  is  on  your  shoulders, 
and  you'll  suffer  your  reward  as  sure  as  there's  a  just  and 
watchful  God  in   Heaven. 

"  Good-bye,  and  again  I  ask  your  pardon  for  losing  my 
self-control  against  you,  and  if  I  can  do  you  good  at  any  time 
to  show  I'm  a  contrite  man,  I  will  do  it. 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"  DODD    WOLFERSTAN." 

In  neither  letter  did  he  make  any  allusion  to  Prim- 
rose Horn,  for  he  had  not  the  least  notion  that 
her  name  and  his  were  being  echoed  together  in 
abused   ears. 


CHAPTER   XII 

abel's  courage  is  revived 

THE  effect  of  Wolferstan's  letter  on  Abel  Pierce 
was  very  marked.  The  labourer  felt  staggered 
for  a  moment  by  these  simple  sentences  and  the 
straightforward  allusions  to  higher  powers.  He  found 
himself  puzzled  and  almost  weak.  First  he  thought 
of  showing  his  mother  the  letter  ;  but  he  hesitated. 
Shame  kept  him  waking ;  then  he  turned  from  it  as  a 
slight  to  Ilet  and  his  love  for  her. 

During  several  days  he  did  nothing,  and  hoped  that 
time  would  deaden  his  emotions.  He  wondered  how 
Ilet  felt  towards  her  letter,  and  became  troubled  because 
she  had  not  mentioned  it  to  him.  Mrs.  Pierce,  how- 
ever, spoke  of  it,  and,  indeed,  had  seen  it.  But  he 
would  not  hear  of  the  matter  from  her,  until  one  even- 
ing when  she  made  him  discuss  the  subject  and  told 
him  her  own  opinions.  Henny  had  not  named  the 
Portreeve  out  of  loyalty  to  her  son,  but  of  late  many 
had  mentioned  him  to  her,  and  Dodd's  letter  to  Ilet 
was  the  last  and  strongest  argument  in  his  favour. 
The  old  woman  now  knew  that  Abel  had  terribly 
erred  ;    and  fearlessly  she  taxed  him  with  his  error. 

"  Light  your  pipe  and  bide  at  home  to-night  and 
listen  to  me,"  she  said.  "  Abel,  my  dear,  you  can't 
do  no  more  in  this.  He's  honest.  He's  called  God 
A'mighty  to  witness  it." 

"  What  then  ?     So  do  every  rogue.     When  they'm 

114 


ABEL'S    COURAGE    IS    REVIVED  115 

in  a  corner,  they  call  that  Witness  —  because  they 
know  He  won't  answer  the  call." 

"  His  letter  is  a  Christian's  letter.  There's  a  great 
power  of  patience  in  it.  He's  cruel  sorry  he  lost  his 
temper  against  you.  But  he's  wrote  to  you  too  — 
though  you  never  told  me  he  had.  Abel,  you  must 
meet  the  man  and  own  to  your  mistake." 

"  Easy  to  say  that.  Why  d'you  believe  him  so 
sudden  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  your  letter." 

" 'Tis  like  the  rest  of  him — smug  and  false,  no 
doubt.     All  part  of  his  game." 

"  Let  me  see  it  then.  You  needn't  fear  me.  You 
know  your  good  be  my  life.  He's  nought  to  me; 
but  right  is  everything.  'Tis  for  your  good  I'm 
thinking.  You've  hearkened  to  a  lie  and  you  must 
hearken   no  more.     The  man's  innocent." 

"  Because  he  says  so." 

"  Because  no  guilty  man  could  have  wrote  as  he 
done  to   Ilet." 

Abel  produced  the  letter  from  his  breast  pocket.  It 
was  already  much  worn  at  the  folds. 

"  You've  read  it  often  enough,  I  see,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  I  know  it  by  heart,  for  that  matter." 

Henny  put  on  her  spectacles  and  slowly  studied 
Wolferstan's  communication,  while  her  son  stared 
darkly  into  the  fire. 

"  No  man  ever  wrote  fairer  words  to  his  fellow-man 
than  that,"  said  Mrs.  Pierce  presently.  Then  she 
folded  up  the  letter  quietly  and  returned  it. 

"  He've  won  you  over  with  all  his  psalm-smiting." 

"  And  you  too.  Don't  deny  it.  Don't  I  know 
your  every  look  an'  turn  ?  Ban't  you  miserable  to  the 
heart's  core  ?  An'  ban't  you  right  to  be?  We  mustn't 
fight  against  the  Lord.     You've  got   to   lose  her   an' 


11^  THE    PORTREEVE 

come  back  to  peace  gradual.  If  you  take  her  now, 
there'll  be  no  more  peace,  an'  the  hand  of  Heaven 
lifted  against  you.  This  letter  —  there's  truth  in  it 
—  every  word ;  and  you  know  it,  else  you  wouldn't 
have  read  it  again  and  again  till  'twas  in  tatters." 

"  Go  on  —  go  on  !  I'rri  to  throw  up  my  life's  hope 
for  a  letter  an'  believe  my  enemy's  pen  an'  ink  stuff 
against  my  own  knowledge  ?     Never,   I   won't !  " 

"  Don't  roar,  my  dear.  'Tis  no  argument  to  shout. 
You  know  I'm  right;  an'  he's  right.  What  you've 
got  against  him  be  a  flimsy  falsehood  in  the  honest 
light  of  day." 

"  You've  been  listening  to  other  people  —  instead 
of  me." 

"  I've  heard  others  tell  about  it.  They  marvel  to 
hear  such  things  vomited  up  against  the  man.  I  took 
your  side  while  I  could  do  it.  But  now  I  know  'twas 
a  terrible  mistake  ;  and  Ilet  or  no  Ilet,  'tis  your  duty 
to  your  soul  to  confess  it." 

"  My  soul's  nought  to  me,  nor  my  body  neither, 
without  her." 

"  Don't  say  that.  Life  with  a  female's  only  a  matter 
of  years.  Your  soul's  a  matter  of  eternity.  There's 
no  husbands  an'  wives  in  Heaven.  They'm  an  earthly 
contrivance.  'Tis  the  Almighty's  way  to  let  love  of 
women  breed  agony  here  for  His  own  wise  ends. 
Think  of  the  happiness  of  Heaven.  If  us  can  be  sure 
of  happiness  there " 

"  Eternity  without  her  !     What's  that  but  hell  ?  " 

"  I  can't  argue  with  you,  my  dear.  But  I  can  only 
ax  God  on  my  knees  to  show  you  where  you'm  so 
terrible  wrong.  An'  as  for  her  an'  Portreeve,  it's  got 
to  be,  whether  you  will  or  not,  for  he's  axed  her  to 
meet  him  up  'pon  top  o'  Yes  Tor,  Saturday  noon." 

"  An'  her  ?  " 

"  She's  going,  I  believe." 


ABEL'S    COURAGE    IS    REVIVED  117 


All's  up,  then." 

'Tis  the  triumph  of  right." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  none  of  that  rot.  'Tis  only 
your  view  of  right,  anyhow  ;  an'  you'm  so  often  wrong 
as  anybody  else." 

Yet,  despite  his  harsh  words,  he  was  at  that  moment 
nearest  yielding.     Another  idea  occurred  to  him. 

"  What  about  the  man's  goings-on  with  Primrose 
Horn  ?  " 

"  That's  the  only  thing  between  them  now,  I 
believe.  She  means  to  ax  him  to  explain  all  about 
that." 

"  An'  if  he  can't  do  ?  " 

"  Maybe  there's  nothing  to  say.  Him  an'  Miss 
Horn  was  always  friends  in  seemly  bounds,  and  Ilet 
knowed  it." 

The  matter  dropped.  The  man  mumbled  a  regret 
that  he  had  spoken  unkindly,  and  his  mother  kissed 
him.  Then  he  went  to  his  bed  and  thought  of  what 
to  do.  More  from  the  difficulty  of  proceeding  than 
from  the  right  and  justice  of  not  doing  so,  he  came 
reluctantly  to  feel  that  he  would  take  no  further  action. 
Then  Primrose  Horn  occurred  to  him,  and  he  asked 
himself  how  she  was  likely  to  view  this  determination. 
He  felt  that  she  must  know  it ;  and,  even  while  he 
decided  to  tell  her,  there  rose  in  his  mind  a  half  hope 
that  she  might  turn  him  again.  His  trust  in  her  in- 
creased as  the  night  waned.  Hounds  met  next  day 
near  Bridgetstowe,  and  he  knew  where  he  might  catch 
her  on  the  road. 

He  left  his  home  at  dawn  before  his  mother  was 
waking,  and  duly  fell  in  with  Primrose  Horn  where  he 
expected  to  do  so.  She  rode  alone  and,  seeing  him, 
stopped. 

"  Things  have  happened,"  he  said.  "  I  must  speak 
to  you,  please,  Miss.     I  won't  keep  you  long." 


ii8  THE   PORTREEVE 

On  the  right  of  the  path  were  fir-woods  and  the 
trees  hung  over  the  way,  where  red-barked  stems 
towered  above  a  soft  carpet  of  dead  foliage. 

Miss  Horn  turned  off  here  and  walked  beside  him, 
invisible  from  the  high  road.  Then,  where  under- 
growth of  laurel  and  Pontic  rhododendron  grew,  she 
dismounted. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  she  asked  calmly. 

"  Wolferstan  is  back." 

"  I  know  that.      He  dines  at  Bowden  on  Sunday." 

"  'Tis  what  he'll  do  on  Saturday.  He've  writ  long 
letters  to  me  an'  Ilet.  My  mother  have  heard  his 
letter  to  her,  an'  he've  told  her  to  meet  him  come 
midday  Saturday  on  Yes  Tor.  Here's  his  letter  to 
me.  'Tis  strong.  The  people  are  on  his  side  too. 
I  don't  see  what  good  it  is  my  going  on  —  unless. 
Ban't  no  use  fighting  the  world  so  well  as  the  man. 
So  I'm  in  a  mind  to  throw  up  the  sponge  —  or  else 
lie  behind  a  hedge  for  the  man  and  finish  him.  But  I 
reckon  that  wouldn't  suit  you." 

She  was  reading  Dodd's  letter  and  not  listening  to 
Pierce.  Now,  still  reading,  she  held  up  her  hand  for 
silence. 

"  Walk  *  Childe '  about  in  the  hollow  out  of  sight 
from  the  road,"  she  said.  "  Leave  me  alone  for  a 
bit." 

Abel  obeyed  and  tramped  backwards  and  forwards 
with  her  horse,  while  she  perused  the  letter.  For 
nearly  twenty  minutes  afterwards  she  remained  sitting 
on  a  tree-stump  without  speaking  or  looking  off  the 
ground.  Then  she  rose,  hitched  up  her  habit  and 
beckoned  to  Pierce. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  answer  to  this  stuff?  "  she 
asked. 

"  What  can  I  answer  ?  People  believe  him.  The 
thing  has  failed.     I  must  chuck  it  up,  I  suppose." 


ABEL'S    COURAGE   IS    REVIVED  119 

"  *  Chuck  it  up  '  — just  as  the  woman's  going  to  give 
in  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  told  you  half  an  hour  agone  she's 
going  up  to  meet  him  Saturday.  He'll  soon  come 
round  her  again  now  she's  promised  to  see  him." 

Primrose  thoughtfully  stroked  her  horse's  nose. 

"  I've  made  enough  enemies  as  it  is,"  he  continued. 
"  What's  the  good  of  falling  out  with  the  world,  if  I 
can't  have  her  ?  " 

"  You  don't  deserve  the  woman  —  though  she  was 
almost  ready  to  fall  into  your  arms.  It's  got  to  be 
now,  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Other  people  are 
interested  as  well  as  you.  What's  the  sense  of  show- 
ing the  white  feather  now  ?  That's  the  way  to  make 
people  see  you're  a  rascal." 

"  She's  going  to  meet  him  on  Yes  Tor  on  Saturday 
anyhow." 

"  My  name  has  not  been  mentioned  ?  " 

"  Not  by  him.  Ilet's  full  enough  of  it,  for  that 
matter.  She's  going  to  ask  him  straight  why  for  he 
went  to  you  in  his  trouble  instead  of  to  her." 

"  I  shall  ride  and  see  Mr.  Wolferstan  this  minute. 
Let  Ilet  know  we've  met  again." 

"  She'll  see  him  if  she's  said  so.     Fate's  against  us." 

"  Fates  aren't  ready-made,  you  silly  fool.  We 
make  our  own.  Your  fate  is  to  marry  Ilet  Yelland. 
We've  got  to  do  a  few  rather  abrupt  things,  and  that 
ends  it.     How  does  Ilet  stand  to  you  ?  " 

"  She's  terrible  miserable." 

"  Suppose  she  waits  hour  after  hour  up  there  and  he 
does  not  come  ?  " 

"  He  will  come." 

"  Not  if  I  say  '  no.'  " 

"  You  !     You're  not  strong  enough  for  that." 

"What  I  do  will  prevent  it  —  not  what  I  say.  If 
you  were  to  go  to  Ilet  Yelland  instead  of  him,  and  tell 


I20  THE    PORTREEVE 

her  that  he  was  not  coming,  and  that  you  had  seen  him 
going  the  other  way  with  me." 

"  I've  Red  enough,  I  tell  you." 

"  You'll  not  lie.  D'you  think  I've  been  with  him 
fifty  times  and  left  him  the  same  man  to  her  ?  I  know 
him  better  far  than  he  knows  himself —  if  you  can 
understand  that.  Take  the  horse  again  and  let  me 
think." 

For  nearly  half  an  hour  he  walked  the  hunter  up 
and  down.     Then  she  called  him  to  her. 

"  I  can  stop  this,"  she  said.  "  He'll  go  up  by  the 
Moor  gate  nigh  Bridgetstowe  station.  She'll  be  on 
foot,  so  he'll  walk  too  —  that's  certain." 

"  No  doubt  at  all." 

She  stroked  the  horse's  nose  again  and  the  beast 
bared  its  teeth  and  lovingly  nibbled  at  her  little  hand. 
Sunlight  came  through  the  trees,  and  beech-leaves,  still 
clinging,  made  a  flame  of  red  colour  behind  her  where 
she  stood. 

"  You  know  the  road  that  turns  up  under  the  rail- 
way arch  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  that'll  be  his  way." 

"  There's  a  hedge  to  the  left  where  a  man  might  lie 
and  watch  the  road  and  anything  on  it.  That's  all  I 
ask  you  to  do.  Then,  when  you've  seen  what  you 
will  see,  you  can  go  to  Ilet  and  tell  her  —  part  of  it." 

"  You'll  be  there  then  ?  " 

"  Yes.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  go  up  to  Ilet  and 
tell  her  that  you've  seen  Wolferstan  with  his  arms 
round  me.     That'll  be  true  enough,  anyway." 

"  By  God  !     You'd  let  him  !  " 

She  laughed. 

"  His  humanity  I  count  upon,  not  his Go  to 

the  bridge  now.  I'll  show  you  the  ground.  There 
will  be  a  catastrophe  of  some  sort,  and  he'll  come  in 
the  nick  of  time  to  — do  something." 


ABEL'S    COURAGE   IS    REVIVED  121 

"  What's  the  good  of  that  ?  Even  if  you  stop  him 
going  to  her,  he'll  explain  it  afterwards." 

She  showed  impatience. 

"  What  a  poor  thing  you  are  !  Can't  you  see  the 
rest  remains  with  you  ?  If  you  were  worth  your  salt, 
you'd  take  very  good  care  that  it  was  too  late  to 
explain  it  afterwards.  Isn't  she  sick  already  of  his 
explanations  and  all  the  rest  of  it?  If  we  could  change 
places  and  I  was  you,  I'd  have  my  banns  up  next 
Sunday.  Carry  her  by  storm !  Let  yourself  go  ! 
What  the  deuce  are  you  frightened  of?  What  is  your 
life  good  for  without  her  ?  Tell  her  the  thing  is  in 
your  hands,  and  that  he's  faithless,  and  that  she  s/ia// 
marry  you.      Master  her  !  " 

He  nodded  and  took  a  long  breath. 

"  Be  foolish  for  yourself,  if  you  like,  but  you've  got 
to  be  wise  for  me  first.  Perhaps  when  you  meet  her, 
after  she's  waited  there  for  the  man  two  or  three  hours, 
she'll  think  better  of  it  and  find  herself  ready  to  listen. 
Any  fool  could  do  your  part ;  the  hard  part  is  mine." 

"  If  a  woman  can  do  such  things  for  a  man,  I  sup- 
pose a  man ?  " 

"  Could  do  as  much  for  a  woman.  I  should  think 
so  —  if  he  was  a  man.  That  letter  !  To  let  that  shake 
you  !  Why,  he's  playing  with  you  —  laughing  at  you. 
At  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  wants  me.  At  the  top 
of  his  heart  he  thinks  he  wants  Ilet.  But  it's  all  folly. 
There  must  come  some  definite  thing  to  open  his  eyes. 
And  so  there  shall.  After  Saturday  he'll  know  he 
loves  me  —  as  well  as  I  know  it  already.  But  that's 
all  too  deep  for  you.  Now  get  across  to  the  railway 
bridge  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  I'll  wait  for  you  there. 
Go  to  the  gate  and  see  there's  nobody  in  the  road  before 
I  ride  out  of  this  wood." 

An  hour  later  they  met  at  a  spot  where  a  track 
climbed  up  out  of  the  country  beneath,  passed  under 


122  THE   PORTREEVE 

the  railway  and  ascended  into  the  Moor.  It  branched 
at  this  point,  and  one  arm  bent  leftward  to  the  Sourton 
Tors,  while  the  other  proceeded  to  the  south. 

Abel  studied  the  part  he  was  to  play  and  discovered 
a  hiding-place  in  the  hedge  from  which  he  might  see 
without  being  seen. 

"  You've  only  got  to  think  of  something  that  would 
bring  you  here  naturally  on  Saturday  and  the  rest  is 
straightforward,"  she  said;  "now  I'm  going  to  call  on 
Mr.  Wolferstan  at  Bridgetstowe." 

Into  her  quick  mind  had  entered  a  project.  It  was 
violent,  but  she  did  not  shrink  from  it.  She  was  far 
less  positive  of  her  position  than  she  had  led  her 
accomplice  to  suppose ;  but  love  of  incident  as  much 
as  love  of  the  man  tempted  her  forward.  She  had 
thought  of  a  way  to  stop  him  on  his  road  to  the  Moor, 
and  the  means  to  carry  out  her  intention  had  dimly 
flashed  upon  her. 

Presently  she  saw  Wolferstan  for  a  few  moments  at 
his  door,  and  found  him  cheerful  and  hopeful.  But  he 
did  not  speak  of  his  forthcoming  meeting  with  Ilet. 
Indeed,  he  avoided  personal  matters. 

As  for  Pierce,  Miss  Horn's  words  had  answered 
their  purpose  with  him.  His  ferocity  awoke.  A  great 
indifference  as  to  the  future  made  him  better  able  to 
play  his  part  in  the  present.  He  called  upon  his  aunt, 
Susan  Yelland,  that  night,  and  contrived  to  let  Ilet 
know  that  the  Portreeve's  first  act  on  returning  home 
had  been  to  visit  Bowden. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE    DEATH    OF    *  BROWN    BOY  * 

PRIMROSE  HORN  was  acutely  alive  to  the  fact 
that  no  small  thing  would  keep  Wolferstan  from 
his  tryst  on  Yes  Tor.  When  they  met  at  Bridget- 
stowe  he  had  been  full  of  apparent  contentment  and 
she  had  guessed  the  reason  why.  She  enveloped 
him,  as  usual,  in  the  gentle  and  genial  atmosphere  of 
her  own  great  regard  for  him ;  and  this  atmosphere 
with  customary  skill  she  regulated ;  made  more  dense 
when  he  was  preoccupied,  and  lightened  when  he  had 
most  leisure  of  mind  to  perceive  it. 

Two  days  remained  in  which  to  make  her  prepara- 
tions. She  understood  that  a  wide  patience  must  mark 
her  future  attitude ;  but  the  immediate  problem  was 
simple :  to  keep  Wolferstan  and  Ilet  apart  until  the 
latter's  patience  became  exhausted  and  she  found  her- 
self without  courage  to  fight  Abel  Pierce  further.  Let 
her  be  removed  safely  out  of  his  life,  and  Primrose  felt 
confident  that  time  would  bring  Wolferstan  to  her. 
But  it  might  be  a  considerable  time.  For  the  moment 
it  was  necessary  to  prevent  the  Portreeve  from  going  to 
Yes  Tor  at  the  appointed  hour.  The  crude  outline  of 
her  action  had  presented  itself  in  the  wood  while  she 
spoke  with  Abel  Pierce.  Now  she  set  to  work  to 
fill  in  the  details.  The  main  scheme  was  simple 
enough  in  its  reckless  violence,  though  some  subtle- 
ties branched  from  it.  Primrose  wondered  if  she 
could  with  safety  speak  to   Ilet  before    the  meeting 

123 


124  THE    PORTREEVE 

on  the  Moor,  but  she  abandoned  the  idea,  and  it  was 
accident,  not  design,  that  actually  brought  them  to- 
gether on  the  day. 

The  morning  dawned  too  bright,  and  the  south 
already  spoke  of  rain,  while  the  sky  was  clear  and  the 
earth  brilliant  with  low  sunshine  and  a  glitter  of  frost. 
Two  men  and  two  women  regarded  that  uncertain  dawn 
with  interest,  and  all  four  understood  how  largely  the 
day  must  bulk  upon  their  lives.  Two  were  working 
together ;  two  acted  independently  and  expected 
presently  to  meet  on  the  secret  mountain-top  of  Yes 
Tor,  hidden  from  every  eye  but  that  of  the  winter 
sun. 

Primrose  Horn  left  her  home  soon  after  ten  o'clock. 
She  drove  an  old  trap  and  an  old  pony,  and  her  object 
as  understood  at  Bowden  was  one  of  charity.  A  ven- 
erable couple  lived  on  the  Moor  edge  five  miles  from 
Bridgetstowe  railway  station.  The  man  had  worked  at 
Bowden  in  bygone  days,  and  hearing  now  that  these 
people  were  suffering  under  the  pinch  of  the  season, 
Miss  Horn  decided  to  comfort  them.  She  set  forth 
with  a  basket  of  good  things,  some  woollen  garments 
from  her  mother,  and  from  her  father  a  half-crown  piece. 
The  road  was  rough  and  in  parts  scarcely  defined. 
Therefore  she  took  a  worthless  vehicle.  The  aged 
pony  that  drew  it  had  also  seen  his  best  days  and 
was  seldom  put  to  work.  Primrose,  however,  pre- 
served him  out  of  consideration  for  his  honourable 
and  extended  career.  She  always  hated  to  destroy 
a  horse. 

"  'Tis  a  risk,"  said  the  stable-man  at  Bowden. 
"  The  axle's  very  near  through.  You  didn't  ought  to 
drive  it,  Miss  —  specially  up  over." 

But  Primrose  knew  all  about  the  axle  and  went  her 
way. 

The  road  led  through  Sourton  and,  just  beyond  that 


THE    DEATH    OF    'BROWN    BOY'  125 

village,  the  pony  overtook  Ilet,  and  its  driver  stopped, 
bent  down  and  shook  hands  effusively. 

"  Good  morning  !  "  she  said.  "  I'm  so  glad  it's  fine. 
And  I'm  glad  to  meet  you.  Are  you  going  my  way, 
or  do  you  turn  off  at  '  Twin  Tree  '  stile  to  the  Moor  ? 
But  I  know  you  do  !  " 

The  other's  dark  face,  placid  till  then,  clouded  as 
she  met  the  smiling  woman's  eyes. 

Ilet  was  clad  in  home-wrought  garments  of  a  brown 
fabric ;  Primrose  wore  a  tailor-made  costume  of  green 
cloth,  and  she  had  a  boa  round  her  neck  of  light, 
bright  fur,  that  was  only  a  little  darker  than  her  hair. 

The  walker  carried  a  stout  stick  and  a  basket  which 
contained  food.  She  was  taking  some  luncheon  for 
Dodd  also  —  a  large,  savoury  pasty  which  she  had 
herself  cooked  for  him.  Now  she  became  painfully 
conscious  that  Primrose  smiled  at  her  preparations. 
She  moved  her  basket  nervously  from  hand  to  hand, 
while  the  other  spoke  to  her. 

"  I  do  hope  it's  going  to  be  fine.  You  are  off  to 
Yes  Tor  —  am  I  rij^Ht?" 

The  other's  face  burned.  For  one  moment  a  flood 
of  passionate  words  leapt  to  her  throat  and  nearly 
choked  her.     Then  she  partly  mastered  herself. 

"Go  —  go  away  —  and  keep  away  if  you  can,"  she 
burst  out. 

"  Why  —  whatever — -^ — !  "  cried  the  charioteer. 

But  she  spoke  to  air,  for  Ilet  Yelland  had  turned 
back.  Not  until  Primrose,  with  a  world  of  wonder 
on  her  lovely  face,  trotted  forward  again,  did  Dodd's 
sweetheart  pursue  her  own  road.  Then,  over  the  stile 
called  *  Twin  Tree,'  she  climbed  and  set  her  face  to 
the  Moor. 

She  was  desperate  and  sore  driven.  After  having 
speech  with  Primrose,  Abel  gave  his  cousin  but  little 
peace.     Especially  he  had  made  her  understand  that 


126  THE   PORTREEVE 

Wolferstan  and  Miss  Horn  were  meeting  constantly 
since  the  Portreeve's  return  home.  Her  heart  grew  very- 
cold  before  this  news,  and  more  than  once  she  deter- 
mined with  herself  not  to  climb  Yes  Tor  at  his  call. 
Yet,  after  much  fret  of  spirit,  she  decided  to  do  so. 
The  end  she  knew  not ;  she  only  knew  that  she  had  for- 
given him  entirely  the  lesser  matter  of  his  anger,  and  that 
with  her  whole  soul  she  believed  him  guiltless  of  the 
deed  imputed  to  him  ;  but  a  mightier  difficulty  stood 
between  them  now.  After  long  battles  with  her  jeal- 
ousy she  conquered  it  to  the  extent  of  keeping  the 
appointment  that  he  had  made  for  her.  Then,  as  un- 
kind chance  decreed,  even  upon  the  way  to  him.  Prim- 
rose had  appeared.  It  was  not  the  meeting  that  now 
darkened  I  let's  spirit,  but  the  vile  fact  that  the  other 
knew  all  about  her  business  and  the  rendezvous  with 
Dodd.  This,  naturally,  she  had  set  to  his  account, 
and  it  terribly  hurt  her.  She  herself  had  shown  Wolf- 
erstan's  letter  to  her  aunts  and  taken  their  opinion  upon 
it ;  but  she  found  it  hard  to  forgive  him  for  mention- 
ing his  proposition  to  others ;  and  Primrose  Horn  last 
of  all.  Once  or  twice  reason  struggled  with  her  and 
she  remembered  her  aunt's  opinion :  that  probably 
Dodd  regarded  Primrose  as  a  sister  in  this  matter. 
But  the  idea  brought  no  comfort  to  her,  and  in  sorrow 
and  distress  of  soul  she  climbed  to  the  heights.  As 
she  tramped  over  sombre  miles  of  the  country  moor, 
she  rehearsed  speeches  and  questions  that  should  strike 
at  this  problem  from  divers  points  of  view  and  set  it  at 
rest  for  ever. 

She  looked  at  a  little  watch  that  he  had  given  her  and 
believed  that  within  an  hour  they  must  meet.  Then 
she  reflected  that  Primrose  might  very  possibly  fall 
in  with  the  Portreeve  upon  his  way.  From  that  to 
the  conviction  that  she  designed  to  do  so  was  but  a 
step. 


THE   DEATH    OF    'BROWN    BOY'  127 

"Afore  God  'tis  the  last  chance  as  I'll  give  him," 
she  thought  with  suffering.  "  I'm  here  at  his  will,  an' 
if  he  don't  come  to  me  with  a  clean  breast  from  all 
these  dealings  with  that  grinning  devil,  I'll  drop  him 
for  evermore." 

And  while  she  tramped  upon  her  way,  the  tender- 
ness in  her  stricken  harshly  by  this  meeting.  Primrose, 
well  pleased  at  such  an  unexpected  incident,  went  for- 
ward until  she  reached  the  lonely  junction  of  roads 
where  her  part  was  to  be  played.  She  passed  under 
the  railway  bridge,  satisfied  herself  that  no  eye  was 
upon  her,  and  made  swift  preparations.  One  thing 
only  remained  to  do,  and  she  waited  for  Abel  Pierce 
to  do  it.  He  arrived  presently  and  then,  taking  a  file 
from  the  trap,  she  showed  him  where  to  work.  In 
two  minutes,  with  a  few  touches,  he  had  reduced  the 
cracked  axle  to  a  dangerous  pitch.  Now  it  needed  only 
another  jolt  to  break  it  altogether.  The  lady  then 
directed  Abel  to  get  out  of  sight  and  keep  out  of 
sight. 

"  Something  is  going  to  happen  as  soon  as  he 
comes,"  she  said  calmly,  as  she  flung  the  file  away  into 
a  ditch  by  the  roadside.  "  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to 
witness  it.  Then  go  straight  to  Yes  Tor  and,  after 
Ilet  Yelland  is  weary  of  waiting,  you  can  approach  her 
and  tell  her  —  not  the  truth  altogether,  but  a  part  of 
it.  I  should  think  she'll  be  satisfied  if  you  say  you 
came  round  the  corner  of  that  bridge  and  saw  me  in 
his  arms.  What  really  happens  we  must  try  and  keep 
from  her  for  a  time.  Be  a  man  for  once  and  have  the 
banns  up  on  Sunday." 

Pierce  now  dimly  suspected  what  was  coming. 

"  Don't  kill  yourself,  that's  all,"  he  said. 

"  Whatever  happens,  you  need  not  come  to  help 
him.  See  what  you're  bidden  to  see  :  only  that ;  then 
go  unseen  yourself." 


128  THE    PORTREEVE 

He  disappeared  into  hiding  and  she  waited  with 
glances  cast  behind  her. 

Twenty  minutes  passed.  A  train  ran  by,  but  Prim- 
rose drove  under  the  railway  bridge  so  that  no  pas- 
senger might  chance  to  observe  her.  The  old  pony 
strained  forward  to  drag  a  mouthful  from  the  hedge. 
Then  Wolferstan  approached  swiftly.  Miss  Horn 
saw  him,  leapt  into  her  vehicle,  whipped  up  *  Brown 
Boy,'  took  him  round  the  corner,  and  sent  him  straight 
over  the  edge  of  the  road  into  a  water-table  that 
extended  beside  it.  The  fall  was  a  foot,  and  the  con- 
cussion broke  the  axle,  brought  down  the  pony  and 
threw  Primrose  on  top  of  him.  She  had  partly  jumped, 
partly  fallen  forward,  and  as  she  came  down,  a  buckle 
cut  her  chin  to  the  bone.  She  felt  the  hot  blood  and 
smiled. 

When  Wolferstan  turned  the  corner  thirty  seconds 
later,  he  found  the  trap  smashed,  the  pony  screaming 
with  a  broken  foreleg,  and  the  woman  face  down  in  the 
ditch  bleeding  freely  from  her  face  and  apparently  dead. 

He  was  swift  and  resolute.  For  a  moment,  indeed, 
despair  touched  him  when  he  recollected  how  far  he 
stood  from  every  sort  of  help,  but  he  set  to  work  with 
a  will,  drew  Primrose  from  the  wreck,  propped  her 
against  a  bank  and  attempted  to  restore  her. 

She  fell  forward  in  a  limp,  unconscious  heap,  and 
the  Portreeve's  arm  went  round  her.  Then  the  unseen 
watcher  understood  and  went  his  way.  It  would  now 
be  exceedingly  easy  for  him  to  lie  like  truth. 

As  for  Primrose  Horn,  the  glory  of  the  moment 
fired  her  and  she  played  her  part  as  well  as  it  could  be 
played.  She  was  proud,  even  at  that  moment,  of  her 
acting,  and  sorry  none  would  ever  know  and  admire 
such  skill.  But  the  world  is  full  of  high  histrionism 
known  only  to  the  performers  —  the  superb  art  that 
conceals  art  from  all  but  the  artist. 


THE    DEATH    OF    'BROWN    BOY'  129 

Yet,  while  never  losing  touch  of  the  impersonation, 
she  rose  somewhat  above  theatricals  also  ;  for  the  blood 
on  her  face,  his  arm  round  her,  and  the  shrill  agony  of 
the  pony  wrought  upon  her ;  and  nature,  in  shape  of 
a  shadowed  hysteria,  crowned  the  masterpiece.  She 
was  never  really  unconscious,  but  simulated  that  state 
until  the  man  began  to  fear  for  her  life.  He  knew 
nothing  as  to  what  he  should  do.  Once  or  twice  he 
i*an  a  little  way.  Then  he  came  back,  soaked  his 
handkerchief  in  the  ditch  and  held  it  to  her  forehead. 
When  he  left  her  side,  she  rolled  inert ;  therefore  he 
kept  his  arm  round  her. 

At  last  she  let  herself  open  her  eyes,  but  suffered  no 
speculation  to  light  them.  She  had  decided  exactly 
what  words  to  say  at  this  point,  and  now,  in  a  voice  as 
faint  as  the  last  whisper  of  the  dying,  she  spoke,  but 
showed  no  sign  that  she  knew  whether  man  or  woman 
attended  her. 

"  All's  dark  1  Open  my  dress.  ...  I  can't 
breathe  !  " 

The  words  came  like  a  sigh  of  wind  along  some 
winter  heath.  They  were  faint  and  clear.  Then  her 
consciousness  appeared  to  flutter  out  again,  and  her 
head  fell  forward. 

With  clumsy  fingers  he  obeyed  her ;  and  his  com- 
mon sense  proceeded  to  do  more.  Her  stays  were 
tight,  but  Dodd  had  heard  of  laces  being  cut  at  such 
times,  and  now,  finding  that  he  could  not  get  to  the 
sufferer's  back,  proceeded  to  unfasten  her  corset  with- 
out hesitation.  Then  he  looked  anxiously  to  see  if 
any  good  came  of  it. 

She  seemed  to  breathe  more  easily,  and  he  felt  her 
limpness  slowly  stiffening.  Again  her  grey  eyes 
opened ;  but  the  lids  lifted  only  a  fraction  over  them. 

"My  heart  —  feel  my  heart!  It's  stopping!" 
she  said  in  stronger  tones.     Then  she  drooped  again. 


I30  THE   PORTREEVE 

He  was  flustered  now,  and,  forgetting  her  pulse, 
obeyed  literally.  He  felt  the  round,  warm  globe  of 
her  left  breast  under  his  hand  ;  and  he  felt  her  heart 
beating  hard. 

"  Thank  God!  Thank  God  !  "  he  said.  "  You're 
better,  Primrose.  It's  all  right.  Your  heart  is  going 
like  mad  !  " 

"  It's  Dodd  —  dear  Dodd  !  "  she  cried,  and  her 
eyes  opened  widely  with  a  sudden  flood  of  returned 
consciousness  and  recognition.  He  was  drawing  his 
hand  away,  but  she  put  both  hers  over  it  and  held  it 
tightly. 

"  Don't  move  yet !  Don't  move  !  You've  saved 
my  life." 

Her  emotion  continued  to  help  her  art.  She  aban- 
doned herself  to  a  great  outburst  of  tears,  let  herself 
go  utterly,  clung  to  him,  kissed  his  sleeve,  and  saw  the 
blood  from  her  chin  dabble  his  coat  and  waistcoat. 
The  man  —  now  satisfied  that  she  was  not  fatally  hurt 
—  began  to  grow  embarrassed. 

"  Cheer  up,  cheer  up  !  "  he  said.  "  Don't  cry  any 
more.  'Twill  only  weaken  you.  Let  me  staunch  this 
blood.  It's  a  properly  bad  cut ;  but  it'll  be  all  right. 
Are  you  hurt  anywhere  ?     Can  you  move  ?" 

Still  clinging  to  him,  she  attempted  to  rise.  Then 
she  fell  back  with  a  little  scream. 

"  My  ankle  !  "  she  said. 

Her  bosom  rose  and  fell  after  the  storm.  He  saw 
her  suddenly  appear  to  realise  the  disorder  of  her  dress 
and  try  in  vain  with  shaking  fingers  to  fasten  it.  Then 
he  moved  a  little  from  her  side  and  made  attempt  to 
calm  her  mind. 

"  Don't  go  away  !  Don't  go  away  !  "  she  cried  to 
him. 

"  No,  no,  I'm  not  going.     I'll  just  leave  you  to 

Your   poor  pony  —  poor   old   *  Brown    Boy.'      He's 


THE    DEATH    OF    'BROWN    BOY'  131 

done  for.  He  must  be  shot.  His  right  fore-leg's 
horribly  smashed." 

She  wept  anew  to  hear  this  sorrowful  tale,  and  it  was 
long  before  she  would  suffer  him  to  leave  her  or  go 
for  necessary  help.  At  last  he  prevailed  upon  her, 
but  promised,  on  his  word  of  honour,  that  he  would 
not  be  gone  more  than  forty  minutes.  While  he  was 
absent,  she  composed  herself.  Two  ideas  filled  her 
mind  :  the  thought  of  his  hand  on  her  breast  and  the 
torture  of  the  injured  pony.  ^  Brown  Boy'  had  made 
a  good  end  for  a  good  cause.  He  had  served  her  for 
many  years  and  never  better  than  to-day.  She  went 
to  his  head  where  he  lay  flat,  and  watched  his  nostrils 
working.  Then  she  grew  angry  at  the  delay,  but  knew 
not  how  herself  to  end  the  beast's  sufferings.  When 
Wolferstan  arrived  with  two  men,  a  cart,  and  a  loaded 
gun.  Primrose  was  sitting  by  the  head  of  poor  *  Brown 
Boy '  and  talking  to  him. 

She  limped  and  leant  heavily  on  the  Portreeve. 
Then  he  brought  a  bottle  out  of  his  pocket  and  offered 
it  to  her. 

"  'Tis  whiskey  and  water,"  he  said  ;  "  the  only  thing 
that  Bassett  had  In  his  cottage.      Please  drink  some." 

She  obeyed  and  he  spoke  again. 

"  I've  sent  a  boy  running  to  Sourton.  There'll  be 
a  trap  waiting  at  Bassett's  by  the  time  you  get  there. 
And  I  said  if  we  weren't  there,  to  come  on  here.  But, 
if  we  go  easily,  we  can  drive  you  in  this  cart  to  the 
corner  and  so  save  time." 

"  I'll  try  to  walk  —  with  your  arm  I  think  I  might." 

She  limped  painfully. 

"Yes,  I'll  walk  —  it  can't  make  it  worse.  Only  I 
must  see  the  end  of  my  dear  old  pony  before  I  go." 

"  Sam  here  will  do  that.  You've  had  enough  to 
suffer  to-day." 

But  Primrose  shook  her  head  and  the  tears  choked 


132  THE   PORTREEVE 

her.      She  knew  that  he  admired  her  great  physical 
bravery  at  all  times  ;  therefore  she  exercised  it  now. 

The  man  stood  with  his  gun,  waiting  for  her  to  go. 
Then  she  knelt  down  by  '  Brown  Boy  '  and  pointed  to 
a  place  behind  his  ear. 

"  There,"  she  said.     "  Do  it  quickly." 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  watched  with  a  tense  and 
straining  face ;  then,  when  the  existence  of  the  little 
beast  was  closed,  she  took  Dodd's  arm  and  limped 
away.     Again  she  wept. 

"  It  must  be  brought  to  Bov/den  to  be  buried,"  she 
said. 

"  How  did  this  dreadful  thing  happen  ?  "  he  asked, 
seeking  to  distract  her  mind.     "  Can  you  remember  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  never  shall  know.  I  was  dream- 
ing and  driving  carelessly  when  something  —  a  covey  of 
partridges,  I  think  —  terrified  poor  '  Brown  Boy.' 
Before  I  knew  what  had  happened  he  was  off  the  road 
and  in  the  water-table,  and  the  old  trap  —  our  man 
actually  warned  me  against  it  this  very  morning  !  " 

"  Where  were  you  going  ?  " 

"To  Hay  craft  and  his  wife  with  some  things  — 
food   and  a  bottle  of  wine." 

"  Wine  !     Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"I  forgot.  I  —  I  can't  talk,  Dodd.  I  shall  faint 
again  if  I  do." 

"  Are  you  in  great  pain  ?  " 

"That's  nothing;  I'm  glad  of  it.  It  keeps  my  wits 
about  me." 

He  looked  at  the  sky.  The  day  was  darkening. 
Helplessly,  heavily,  his  mind  flew  to  Yes  Tor  ;  and 
Primrose  knew  it. 

She  stopped  for  a  time  to  sit  down,  then  struggled 
on  again.  The  trap  had  not  yet  come  and,  when  it 
did,  the  sufferer  refused  to  be  driven  by  anybody  but 
Wolferstan. 


THE   DEATH   OF    'BROWN   BOY'  133 

She  fainted  again  before  the  start;  but  soon  recov- 
ered and  was  lifted  into  the  vehicle. 

So  the  Portreeve  drove  her  to  Bowden  as  fast  as  a 
poor  horse  could  do  the  distance.  Even  then  she 
would  not  let  him  go  until  the  doctor  came,  and  her 
mother  also  implored  him  to  stop,  because  the  farmer 
happened  to  be  from  home,  and  there  was  no  man  to 
support  them. 

Not  until  it  grew  dusk  was  he  free  to  depart.  By 
that  time  rain  fell  heavily,  and  Yes  Tor  was  cowled  in 
its  familiar  hood  of  wet  darkness. 

He  went  straight  to  the  home  of  the  Yellands  at 
Sourton,  and  his  own  affairs  filled  his  brain  painfully. 
Yet  upon  them  intruded  the  heart  of  Primrose  beat- 
ing under  his  hand;  and  her  blood-bedappled  loveli- 
ness mingled  with  the  vision  of  brown  Ilet  waiting  in 
lonely  patience  on  the  cloudy  crown  of  the  Moor. 

When  he  reached  her  cottage  door  and  knocked  at 
it,  there  came  no  answering  light  or  footstep.  The 
place  was  dark  and  empty.  Thrice  he  knocked  ;  then 
a  neighbour  appeared  and  informed  him  that  Susan 
Yelland  and  her  niece  were  both  absent  until  evening. 
The  hour  when    they  would  return  was  not  known. 

"  Perhaps  she  never  went  to  Yes  Tor  at  all,"  he 
thought. 

Ignorant  of  where  to  seek  her  and  himself  physically 
exhausted  by  a  long  day  without  food,  he  tramped 
homeward.  His  purpose  was  to  eat,  change  his  soak- 
ing garments,  and  return  to  Sourton  some  hours  later. 
But  after  putting  on  dry  things  and  partaking  of  a 
heavy  meal,  he  sat  beside  his  fire  and  fell  asleep  there. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning  be- 
fore he  woke  up  in  darkness  ;  for  both  fire  and  lamp  were 
out.  He  felt  cold  and  wretched,  and  oppressively 
conscious  of  coming  trouble.  He  drank  a  stiff  glass  of 
spirits,  prayed  earnestly  on  his  knees,  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER   XIV 


YES    TOR 


FROM  the  summit  of  Yes  Tor  the  stir  of  the  sky- 
was  visible,  and  clouds  that  huddled  their  purple 
over  the  southern  horizon,  though  huge  in  mag- 
nitude, yet  filled  but  a  small  part  of  the  immensity  of 
the  air.  From  their  bosoms  rain  slanted  sharply  and 
made  a  haze  of  light  against  darkness  ;  but  the  storm 
was  many  miles  distant ;  it  travelled  slowly ;  the  moil 
and  mass  of  it  thinned  to  the  southwest,  then  burnt 
away  into  flame  and  azure  about  the  naked,  noonday 
sun.  Earth  lay  outspread  beneath,  and  its  immeasur- 
able mosaic  shone  heavily  in  the  colours  of  winter. 
Deep  woods  and  dark  earth,  lifeless  heaths  and  far-dis- 
tant hills  were  woven  into  league-long  harmonies  by 
the  splendour  of  the  light  that  blazes  before  rain  ;  by 
the  film  of  earth-born  smoke ;  by  the  silver  of  water 
and  the  magic  of  the  remote  Atlantic  —  unseen  but  not 
unfelt.  To  Dartmoor's  rugged  foothills  spread  this 
picture  of  pale  gold  and  gloom  and  misty  pearl ;  then 
in  primal  stringency  and  rigour  rose  the  table-land  — 
lone  mother  of  rivers  and  cradle  of  silence.  Its  granite 
planes  and  shattered  declivities  were  dark ;  its  scarps 
and  crags  lowered  savage  above  the  tamed  world  at 
their  feet.  The  squat  skull  of  High  Willhayes,  Knee- 
set's  rounded  cone,  the  rock  masses  of  Great  Links, 
like  a  cloud  against  the  clouds  —  these  towered  to 
south  and  west;  and  round  about  interminable  ridges 
and  undulations  swept  shadowy  upward  to  the  central 

134 


YES   TOR 


»35 


Moor.  No  native  light  touched  them,  but  streaks 
and  splashes  of  snow  lingered  within  their  northern 
hollows  and  marked  coombs  and  desolate  dingles  un- 
touched by  the  low  winter  sun.  Murky,  overcast,  and 
dim,  the  distance  sank  into  the  darkness  of  the  sky, 
so  that  stormward  none  might  tell  where  earth  ended 
and  the  air  began.  No  smile  lit  that  vast  and  stern- 
set  face  ;  and  Ilet  Yelland's  human  heart  turned  her 
eyes  away  for  a  little,  because  the  north  spoke  a  gentler 
story  and  the  sun  shone  where  Okehampton,  like  a 
grey  nest,  cuddled  far  beneath  the  billowy  ridges  of 
the  waste.  Amid  green  fields  and  forests  and  the 
sepia  warmth  of  winter  fallow  it  spread,  shrunk  to  a 
spatter  of  stone-coloured  dots  and  splashes.  Above 
naked  tracery  of  trees  a  church-tower  rose  and  domi- 
nated all. 

The  spectator  of  imagination  thus  surveying  a  whole 
centre  of  human  activity,  as  he  might  view  some  nest 
of  ants,  or  the  commonwealth  of  a  hive,  ascends  from 
merely  manlike  perception  to  the  comprehensive  dis- 
crimination of  a  god.  Thus  reduced  by  the  logic  of 
distance,  a  town  is  shorn  of  its  extrinsic  detail  in  every 
possible  direction,  and  can  be  esteemed  as  a  whole  in 
the  balance  of  a  single  mind.  Wide  adjustments  are 
then  possible,  and  appraisements  unbiassed  by  petty 
particulars  of  human  hope  and  fear,  prosperity  and 
failure,  individual  ambition  and  personal  suffering  or 
joy.  So  seen,  a  whole  city  dwindles  to  its  just,  actual, 
and  spiritual  perspective  on  the  earth's  bosom,  where 
it  lies  like  a  spot.  From  Okehampton  town  two  whole 
worlds  stretched  away  under  the  universal  sky ;  for 
upon  one  side  the  earth  slept  under  her  coverlet  of 
fields,  even  to  the  horizon,  and  the  Mother  of  all  smiled 
through  winter  dreams  ;  while  over  against  this  peace, 
another  land  ascended  austerely  and  another  tale  was 
told. 


136  THE    PORTREEVE 

Ilet  Yelland  vaguely  wondered  as  to  which  picture 
shadowed  her  own  story.  The  world  beyond  was  the 
life  beyond  —  the  Hfe  upon  whose  threshold  to-day  she 
returned  —  the  life  uncertain,  boundless  in  its  promise 
of  good  or  evil  —  the  married  life  with  the  man  who 
loved  her.  Did  the  comfort  of  the  valley  tell  it,  or 
the  coercion  of  this  uplifted  desert  whereon  she  stood  ? 
She  turned  to  the  Moor,  as  one  who  began  to  feel 
something  of  its  secrets.  She  mused  whether  these 
terrific  transitions  of  steepness  and  slough,  these  alter- 
nations of  blazing  heat  and  light,  darkness  and  bitter 
cold,  would  find  their  image  in  her  own  brief  days. 
She  felt  dumbly,  as  all  feel,  that  here  the  very  soul 
and  spirit  of  truth  encompassed  her.  Sometimes  she 
was  caught  up  by  it,  sometimes  depressed  and  saddened. 
Yet  here  was  the  way  of  greatness,  if  she  might  but 
see  it.  The  Moor  rang  men  like  metal ;  proclaimed 
the  strong  and  true ;  revealed  the  weak  and  false ; 
challenged  humanity ;  tolerated  no  middle  courses ; 
played  the  loadstone  to  drag  elemental  best  and  worst 
from  human  hearts.  For  a  moment  she  pitied  those 
men  whose  work  daily  called  them  to*  its  high  places. 
Because  in  the  lowlands  was  escape  from  one's  own 
heart,  and  many  hiding-places  opened  on  the  road  of 
life,  where  her  kind  tramped  it  together  and  practised 
those  arts  of  simulation  vital  to  gregarious  living 
among  men.  But  here  it  seemed  that  there  was  no 
evasion.  As  the  wind  struck  the  stone,  broke  the  dead 
fern-stalk  and  searched  the  heat  of  warm-blooded  things 
that  faced  it,  so  did  the  spirit  of  wind  and  stone  haunt 
these  steep  places  and  steal  to  the  soul  for  good  or  ill. 
Under  glare  of  cloudless  summer  days ;  on  the  wings 
of  the  rain  or  from  the  cold  breath  of  stealing  fogs  it 
came  to  her;  out  of  the  thunder,  in  the  snow,  or  where 
autumn  ling-light  laughed  and  vanished  again,  the 
like  deep  message  woke. 


YES    TOR  137 

No  soul  not  wholly  sodden  can  escape  from  it. 
Even  the  humblest  unconsciously  feel  this  magic, 
though  they  know  not  what  they  feel.  To  the  least 
dweller  thereon  Dartmoor  stands  for  something  greater 
than  heather  and  stone  and  the  calling  of  the  cleeves. 
Aforetime  they  peopled  it  with  fairy  spirits,  half  kind, 
half  cruel ;  they  heard  the  cry  of  the  heath-hounds 
by  night  and  believed  that  the  souls  of  unbaptised 
babies  did  their  Maker's  work  under  the  moon,  and 
in  shape  of  a  little  pack  harried  and  hunted  the  Enemy 
of  Man.  Many  such  like  fine  things  of  poetry  be- 
longed to  their  minds ;  their  very  words  were  rich 
with  subtle  meaning  ;  but  now  these  opinions  perish, 
save  in  ancient  hearts,  and  only  the  inherent  love  of 
mystery  remains.  The  folk  dare  not  speak  of  that ; 
but  a  man  may  see  secret  superstition  in  their  eyes 
somietimes  and  hear  it  in  their  voices,  though  they 
utter  no  word  of  it.  All  feel  a  little  of  the  inner 
truth  of  natural  things  that  lie  scattered  here  even 
as  nature  left  them  ;  many  depart  from  their  lonely 
homes  unwillingly,  and  with  gladness  return  again. 
And  for  the  active  intellect  of  man,  if  healthy  and 
touched  with  some  vital  spark  of  imagination,  as  the 
spectre  on  the  Brocken,  so  here  the  sane  and  wakeful 
spirit  shall  be  faced  daily,  hourly,  with  itself — shall 
see  itself  mightily  magnified  and  illuminated  to  its 
darkest  corners. 

To  Ilet  these  voices  came  strenuous  and  searching. 
The  Moor  had  entered  her  life  like  a  friend.  She  did 
not  know  it,  but  often  felt  it,  and  understood  inarticu- 
lately that  the  place  was  precious.  To-day  the  wind 
made  her  hands  turn  red  and  touched  her  face  to  a 
tinge  almost  purple ;  but  she  welcomed  the  cold, 
drank  the  chill  air,  estimated  the  meaning  of  the 
cloudy  activity  of  the  south,  and  sighed,  though  not 
with  unhappiness.      It  was  good  to  be  here  and  feel 


138  THE    PORTREEVE 

so  small ;  it  was  very  good,  feeling  so  small,  to  feel  so 
strong  also.  Her  heart  wavered  no  more;  her  recent 
meeting  with  Primrose  Horn  was  put  aside  as  a  mean 
thing.  She  regretted  her  own  anger.  A  prayer, 
wordless  but  winged,  rose  from  her  heart,  and  she 
called  on  Heaven  to  affirm  her  soul  and  sweep  from 
it  for  ever  all  base  shadows  of  jealousy  and  doubt. 

In  this  spirit  she  waited  very  patiently,  watched 
the  south  threaten  and  wondered  why  Wolferstan  did 
not  come.  She  walked  hither  and  thither  to  warm 
herself,  and  every  half  hour  went  a  little  way  towards 
the  direction  he  must  take.  Then,  with  sinking  heart, 
she  returned  to  the  tor  and  sat  down  in  a  niche  of 
the  granite  sheltered  from  the  wind.  The  day  became 
overcast.  From  hope  and  peace  her  soul  turned  and 
grew  faint  and  sick.  There  rose  a  wave  of  anger  once 
—  like  the  first  pulse  of  the  rain  after  long  drought. 
It  passed  and  left  her  empty  of  all  emotion.  She 
turned  over  the  food  in  her  basket,  but,  though  physi- 
cally hungered,  had  no  heart  to  eat.  It  was  now  nearly 
three  in  the  afternoon. 

At  last  a  spot  moved  across  the  mighty  loneliness. 
Pierce  had  hidden  a  mile  off  and  watched  her  roaming, 
now  here,  now  there.  He  hurried  forward,  and  it  be- 
came a  question  whether  the  man  or  the  rain  would 
reach  her  first.  Thinking  that  it  was  Wolferstan,  Ilet 
leapt  up;  then  a  recoil  of  feeling  made  her  turn  her 
back,  and  put  rocks  between  them,  and  steal  to  the 
other  side  of  the  tor.  She  was  even  in  a  mind  to  hide 
from  him  and  let  him  search  for  her  and  not  find  her. 
She  felt  ashamed  of  herself  for  having  waited  so  long. 
Finally,  between  indifference  and  chagrin,  she  adopted 
a  middle  course,  sat  with  her  back  to  the  approaching 
figure  and  pretended  to  eat. 

Then  the  footsteps  came  close  and  Ilet  started  and 
rose  to  her  feet,  for  it  was  Abel  Pierce  and  not  the 


YES   TOR 


'39 


Portreeve  who  stood  before  her  with  his  eyes  upon 
her  own. 

In  a  moment  he  was  beside  her  and,  to  her  amaze- 
ment, advanced  boldly,  put  his  arms  round  her,  em- 
braced her  with  all  his  strength  and  kissed  her.  She 
struggled  fiercely  and  felt  his  breast  heaving  with  the 
speed  of  his  progress. 

"  Let  me  go  —  let  me  free  —  how  do  you  dare  ?  " 
she  cried,  thrusting  him  from  her. 

"Forgive  me,  Ilet;  I  couldn't  help  it,  knowing 
what  I  know  and  seeing  what  I've  seen  this  day." 

"Wolferstan ?" 

"  He's  not  coming.  And  I'll  swear  you  ban't  sur- 
prised to  hear  it." 

"  Not  coming  —  not  —  how  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

She  fell  back  where  she  had  sat  beside  her  basket, 
and  now  shrank  from  his  ardent  eyes  until  her  shoul- 
ders pressed  the  granite  behind  her. 

"  Let  me  sit  down  an'  I'll  tell  'e  every  syllable." 

He  approached  again,  but  did  not  touch  her. 

"  Chance  throwed  me  in  sight  of  the  man  down- 
along.  Oh,  Ilet,  I  couldn't  hardly  believe  my  own 
eyesight.  But  'twas  true  enough  —  that  woman!  I 
comed  up  behind  'em  silent  and  sudden  in  a  lonely 
place  sitting  by  the  roadside,  an'  his  arms  —  she  was 
in  'em  —  happy  an'  proud  to  be  there  !  " 

"  She  went  to  stop  him." 

"  You  say  that !  " 

"  I  met  her  by  Twin  Tree  stile.  She  was  driving. 
But  how  do  I  know  this  be  truth  ?  " 

"  Because  I  speak  it.  If  'tis  a  lie,  you  can  prove  it 
by  axing  the  man.     Well  you  know  'tis  true  1 " 

"  True  enough,  I  dare  say." 

"There  —  heart  to  heart  —  and  his  ruddy  face 
blazing,  an'  her  head  cuddled  to  him  —  as  God's  my 
judge.     White  as  a  dog's  tooth  with  passion  she  was. 


I40  THE    PORTREEVE 

I  seed  all  through  a  hedge  —  all.  Up  to  their  May- 
games  beside  a  public  road  ! " 

"  They  saw  you  ?  " 

"  Might  have,  but  didn't.  No  room  in  their  eyes 
or  ears  but  themselves.  Wouldn't  have  seed  me  if 
I'd  walked  past  'em.  Wouldn't  have  feared  me  more 
than  two  birds  fighting  fear  ought  else." 

"Cruel  —  cruel!"  she  burst  out.  "  And  he  called 
his  God  to  witness " 

"Like  him.  What's  God  to  him  —  or  what  be 
you  to  him  ?  What  do  he  care  in  his  heart  for  you, 
or  any  other  she  but  her  ?  'Twas  only  a  passing 
whim  made  him  fool  you  all  these  months.  A  word 
from  her,  an'  he'd  leave  you  to  die  an'  rot  up  here 
afore  he'd  come  to  you.  Her  lips  on  his  was  enough, 
no  doubt  —  beast  that  he  be." 

"  You  saw  it  ?  " 

"May  I  never  lift  this  arm  again  If  I  did  not.  I 
waited  and  watched  to  see  if  he'd  come  up  here  after, 
yet  knowed  he  wouldn't.  'Tis  easy  to  see  it  all.  He 
wants  money  an'  power.  She  can  help  him  an'  you 
can't.  But  you — you  be  only  an  honest,  pure,  true- 
hearted  woman  —  light  to  that  witch's  darkness.  No 
use  to  such  a  rising  man  !  No  money,  no  penman- 
ship — just  the  soul  of  truth  an'  honour  an'  all  that." 

The  present  indignity  troubled  Ilet.  Her  mind 
could  not  cope  with  the  monstrous  truth  in  a  moment. 
It  was  too  large  to  measure  while  in  company  of  any 
other.     A  trivial  fact  came  to  her  lips. 

"  To  make  me  traapse  all  up  here  for  nought,"  she 
said  feebly.     Then  she  looked  at  the  rain-laden  sky. 

"  Thank  your  God  'twas  for  nought.  A  very  mer- 
ciful escape  for  you.  He'd  soon  enough  have  sickened 
of  your  honest  soul,  and  turned  his  eyes  to  others  as 
crooked-hearted  as  himself  belike  —  as  he  have  before. 
You   be  mine  now,  as  God  meant  'e   to   be ;  an'   I'll 


YES   TOR  141 

never  let  you  go  no  more  —  may  He  judge  me  if  I 
do.  'Twas  always  so  ordained,  and  many  fore-tokens 
have  I  had  of  late." 

"  He  was  coming  to  me  an'  she  stopped  him." 

"  Granted.  What  fashion  of  man  be  that  to  let  a 
woman  do  it  ^  Her  arms  round  his  neck  —  her  breath 
on  his  cheek  —  was  enough.  All  hell  let  loose  wouldn't 
have  stopped  me.  His  arms  went  round  her  —  like 
mine  went  round  you." 

"  Could  he  —  after  his  letter  ?  " 

"May  God  strike  me  if  'tisn't  true  —  else  where's 
the  man  ?  Oh,  Ilet,  Ilet  Yelland,  can  you  torment 
me  any  more  ?  Haven't  1  done  enough  and  suffered 
enough  for  you  ?  " 

"  Why  did  you  come  to  tell  me  this  ?  " 

"  What  more  natural  ?  Don't  I  love  you  with  every 
thought  ?  Was  you  to  wait  here  alone  with  sorrow  for 
evermore  because  he'd  forgot  you  ?  " 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  change.  Your  good  is  my  life.  Only 
don't  think  I've  turned  him  away  from  you,  Ilet. 
He's  turned  himself  away." 

"  I  believe  that  now,"  she  said. 

A  rush  of  rain  swept  over  them  and  she  saw  the 
moisture  make  shining  spots  on  his  beard.  His  face 
was  close  to  hers.  His  eyes  burned  with  imperishable 
love.  For  the  moment  he  firmly  believed  himself 
both  honourable  and  true  ;  because  great  love  often 
deludes  a  lover,  not  only  concerning  the  object,  but 
also  about  himself.  At  such  times  he  may  be  dazzled 
by  his  own  light. 

Abel  felt  her  to  be  within  reach  at  last.  Her  silences 
spoke  loudly  to  him.  Her  hesitation  was  full  of  prom- 
ise. Once  let  her  say  '  yes '  and  she  would  change  no 
more. 

She  looked  up  at  the  gloomy  sky. 


142  THE    PORTREEVE 


(( 


Ilet !      Ilet,  be  I  nothing  ?  " 

For  a  moment  more  she  sat  irresolute,  helpless, 
dumb  ;  then  she  wept  very  bitterly  and  suffered  his 
embraces. 

Almost  immediately  afterwards,  by  a  track  known 
to  the  man,  they  set  off  to  his  mother's  house. 

The  great  hill  behind  them  was  swallowed  in  grey 
rain,  and  I  let's  basket,  forgotten,  stood  beside  the  place 
where  she  had  waited.  Then  three  carrion  crows  came 
croaking  out  of  the  clouds,  and  alighted  at  hand,  and 
found  the  pasty  that  was  meant  for  Wolferstan,  and 
fought  over  it. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE    WALK    FROM    CHURCH 

AFTER  heavy  rain,  the  road  from  Okehampton  to 
Sourton  stretched  bright  as  a  river  under  the  grey 
Hght  of  noon.  Every  pit  or  inequality  was  a  pool, 
and  the  ditches  ran  full.  Under  the  water,  grasses 
waved  wanly,  and  every  blade  held  bubbles  of  im- 
prisoned air.  The  day  was  damp  and  raw,  but  rain 
had  ceased  for  a  time. 

Four  persons  walked  along  this  soaking  road  and 
talked  busily.  Abner  Barkell  and  his  old  friend,  Ned 
Ferryman,  went  together  in  front ;  behind  them  came 
Dicky  and  Mr.  Ferryman's  grand-daughter,  Jane.  The 
signalman  and  his  father  were  going  to  Sunday  dinner 
with  Ned,  and  now  they  all  tramped  along  from  wor- 
ship at  Okehampton. 

The  men  were  dressed  in  their  black  broadcloth,  and 
Abner  also  wore  a  big  coat  and  a  comforter  of  red  wool, 
that  puffed  out  under  his  long  throat,  like  the  wattles 
of  a  turkey.  He  and  Mr.  Ferryman  engaged  in  brisk 
conversation  on  the  subject  of  the  sermon.  Their 
rusty  top  hats  were  thrust  back  on  their  heads ;  their 
ancient  foreheads  were  wrinkled  with  the  strain  of  a 
metaphysical  discussion.  The  matter  referred  to  the 
future  state,  and,  in  a  manner  common  with  those  who 
hopefully  near  the  journey's  end,  they  found  the 
theme  of  great  attraction.  Both  felt  sanguine,  indeed 
positive  ;  but  their  outlook  was  different,  for  Mr. 
Barkell  held  nebulous  hopes  of  a  state  spiritual  in  every 

143 


144 


THE    PORTREEVE 


respect,  being  led  to  desire  it  by  the  pains  of  his  own 
chronic  rheumatism  ;  while  for  Ned  Ferryman  eternity 
without  substance  offered  no  charm. 

"  To  be  an  airy  sort  of  creation  is  a  very  comforting 
thought  to  me,"  declared  Abner ;  "  for  'tis  very  clear 
that  a  heavenly  angel,  such  as  I  shall  be,  can't  feel  a 
twinge.  I  shall  say  '  good-bye '  to  my  bones  with  a 
Hght  heart ;  for,  to  tell  truth,  bones  and  rheumatics 
have  been  one  an'  the  same  to  me  any  time  this  thirty 
year.  An'  after  the  doing  I've  had  with  'em,  I  should 
never  trust  'em  no  more  —  not  even  in  Heaven  —  but 
expect  the  stab  of  'em  every  morning,  so  soon  as  I 
drawed  my  waking  breath." 

"  We  shall  be  raised  in  our  own  flesh,  however, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not,"  argued  Mr.  Ferryman. 
"  An'  a  good  thing  too,  sez  I.  What's  the  sense  of 
having  no  more  body  to  you  than  a  shirt  drying  on  a 
clothes  line.''  Avery  ondacent  thought,  if  you  ax  me. 
We'm  accustomed  to  live  in  our  flesh  an'  bones  ;  an' 
I  shouldn't  expect  no  lasting  happiness  outside  'em. 
Besides  'tis  well  known  they'll  be  glorified  out  o' 
knowledge." 

"  You  was  always  rather  beastly  in  your  ideas," 
argued  Abner.  "  But  if  your  bones  had  given  you 
hell's  delights,  like  what  mine  have,  you  wouldn't  be 
so  fond  of  'em.  I  don't  want  'em  glorified  ;  I  want 
'em  away." 

"  The  Book's  against  you  all  the  same,"  asserted  old 
Ned.  "  Of  course  it  is.  What's  the  good  of  golden 
streets  if  us  shan't  have  no  solid  feet  to  tramp  'em  ;  or 
of  golden  thrones  if  us  ban't  going  to  have  no  sit-downs 
to  put  on  'em  ?  You  oughtn't  to  let  rheumatics  drive 
you  into  such  Godless  thoughts,  I'm  sure.  An'  wi' 
all  the  singing,  ban't  there  going  to  be  no  drinking? 
Answer  that  !  " 

Mr.   Ferryman's  ideas  were  in   truth  earthly  ;    but 


THE    WALK    FROM    CHURCH  145 

old  Barkell  could  also  quote  Scripture  to  his  purpose. 
He  ignored  the  question  about  drinking  and  touched 
a  higher  matter. 

"  How  about  marrying  an'  giving  in  marriage  then  ? 
That's  forbid,  anyway,  for  Bible  says  it.  There  won't 
be  no  family  matters  there.  According  to  parson,  us 
can't  even  say  for  sartain  there'll  be  men  an'  women." 

The  other  veteran's  face  fell. 

"  That's  a  thought  that  have  often  made  me  feel 
oneasy,"  he  answered.  "  I  see  danger  in  it,  an'  feel  glad 
'tis  in  Higher  Hands  than  mine." 

"  Danger  in  Heaven  !  Who  be  the  Godless  party 
now: 

"  Well,  I  speak  under  correction  ;  but  when  you 
get  thousands  of  people  living  in  idleness  on  the  fat 
of  the  land,  there  is  danger.  Ban't  the  Psalms  full  of 
it?     If  David  didn't  know,  who  should  ?  " 

"  Fear  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Barkell.  "  'Twill  all  be 
altered  there." 

Mr.  Ferryman  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"You  can't  alter  human  nature  —  everybody  knows 
that.     Think  of  the  young  people " 

"  He  that  made  'em  can  change  'em.  'Tis  all  part 
of  my  argeyment  against  flesh,"  replied  the  bridge- 
builder.  "  To  be  a  comfortable  spirit  above  pain  an' 
cold,  wi'  no  parts  to  hinder  nor  itch,  an'  no  wind  to 
run  short  against  a  hill  —  that  be  a  grander  and  prop- 
erer  thing  than  what  you  hope  for.  You  want  to  carry 
the  lusts  of  the  flesh  up-along  with  you  ;  but  it  can't 
be  done,  Ned.  I  was  as  fond  of  it  all  as  ever  you  was, 
an'  took  my  hand  at  the  game  like  a  good  un ;  but  I 
don't  want  no  more  of  it  after." 

"  No  meal  times  !  " 

"Eating  an'  drinking's  a  large  part  of  life,"  admitted 
the  other,  "  an'  nobody  could  look  forward  to  a  slice 
of  red  beef  an'  a  pint  of  ale  more  than   I   do  at  this 

L 


146  THE    PORTREEVE 

moment ;  but  they'm  dearly  bought  with  the  sorrow 
of  the  parts  that  tackle  'em." 

"  'Tis  the  point  of  view,"  conceded  Ferryman.  "  If 
I  was  so  round  of  belly  an'  short  of  breathing  as  you 
be,  the  angel  state  might  draw  me.  But  if  your  mind 
was  more  active,  you  could  picture  being  as  you  be, 
yet  without  a  pang,  and  perhaps  twenty  years  an'  a 
couple  of  stone  knocked  off  into  the  bargain." 

"  No,  I  can't.  I  want  the  lot  away  an'  everything 
flam  new.  I  hope  I'm  right ;  an'  you  hope  you'm  right ; 
but  however  'tis,  'twill  be  for  the  best,  so  all's  said." 

"  Parson  wasn't  positive." 

"  Never  is.  That's  what  I  despise  in  the  man. 
Sits  'pon  the  fence,  like  a  chap  mindin'  rooks.  If  the 
last  trump  was  to  sound,  he'd  hang  back  an'  wonder 
if,  after  all,  it  mightn't  be  the  railway  train  waiting  for 
Dicky's  signals." 

The  younger  Barkell  here  joined  them. 

"  One  thing  did  surprise  me,"  he  said ;  "  but 
'twasn't  in  the  sermon." 

Them  banns  of  marriage  ?  "  asked  Jane. 
Ess  fay  !  "  answered  Abner.  "  Dash  my  old  wig 
—  'tis  a  startler.  An'  yet,  come  to  think  of  it,  no 
more  than  Pierce  himself  told  us  to  expect  long  since. 
He  meant  to  have  her.  'Twas  neck  or  nothing  with 
him.  Now,  unless  the  axing  out  be  denied  next  Sun- 
day, the  woman's  his." 

"  Won't  Mr.  Wolferstan  make  a  fight  ? "  asked 
Ned's  grand-daughter. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Dicky.  "  I  can't  see  that  it 
would  answer  any  purpose.  A  lot  must  have  happened 
afore  she  let  Pierce  go  so  far  as  that.  Anyway,  'tis  a 
reprieve  for  Dodd.     He's  had  his  dose  of  woman  now." 

"  Abel  Pierce  is  an  itemy  ^  chap  and  have  worked 
underground,    no    doubt,"    declared    Mr.     Perryman. 

1  Itemy  —  tricky. 


THE    WALK   FROM    CHURCH 


H7 


"  'TIs  all  part  and  parcel  of  the  trouble  that  began  at 
the  drift.  A  man  don't  let  himself  be  smote  across 
the  face  afore  the  neighbours  for  much  less  than  a  fe- 
male ;  though  for  that  they'll  do  or  suffer  anything,  and 
sink  their  nature  to  softness,  like  a  courting  tom-cat. 
Her  love  for  Portreeve  weren't  strong  enough  to  stand 
out  against  the  lesser  man  ;  so  there  you  are." 

Dicky  answered  nothing,  but  pursued  his  simple 
custom  of  silence  rather  than  criticism.  Now,  how- 
ever, as  the  party  crept  onward  to  Sourton,  there  came 
towards  them,  walking  scarcely  faster  than  themselves, 
a  man  ;  and  they  perceived  that,  despite  his  listless, 
unfamiliar  stride,  it  was  Wolferstan. 

He  looked  careworn  and  very  gloomy,  while  an 
expression  foreign  to  his  face  sat  there. 

The  younger  Barkell  uttered  a  word  of  strong  im- 
patience at  sight  of  Dodd. 

"  Be  damned  to  it !  I'd  sooner  have  met  any  other 
man  alive  than  yon  chap  this  minute,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  'Tis  Providence,"  answered  his  father.  "  You're 
the  man's  friend.  'Twas  ordained  you  should  meet 
him  just  as  you  be:  hot  from  holy  worship  an'  full  of 
these  crooked  tidings." 

"An'  we'll  skip  on,"  added  Ned  Perryman,  "for 
'tisn't  a  pleasant  task  just  afore  Sunday  dinner.  But 
it  have  to  be  —  so  sure  as  every  pair  of  human  ears, 
that  ain't  deaf,  have  got  to  take  in  their  proper  load  of 
bad  luck  sooner  or  late." 

Dicky  hesitated,  then  decided  to  tell  Wolferstan  what 
had  happened. 

"  Plague  on  it !  "  he  said.  "  All  the  same,  from  the 
walk  of  the  man,  I  reckon  he  knows." 

Dodd  was  passing  with  a  gesture  of  recognition,  when 
the  younger  Barkell  stopped  him.  The  two  veterans 
shuffled  forward  silently  and  Jane  Perryman  followed 
them.     Then  Dicky  and  his  friend  were  left  alone. 


148  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  I'll  go  a  few  yards  back-along  with  you,"  said  the 
signalman.     "  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Wolferstan  nodded. 

"  I've  got  a  cruel  lot  on  my  mind  to-day,  Dick. 
Fate's  hard  and  I  can't  see  that  what  has  happened 
was  right  to  happen,  though  no  doubt  it  was  —  else  it 
wouldn't  have  happened." 

"  A  very  comforting  outlook." 

"  I  was  to  have  met  Ilet  by  appointment  yesterday 
and  made  all  up.  But  something  came  between. 
And  now  I've  called  to  explain  ;  and  it's  the  same  dry 
story  again  —  dust  and  ashes.  She  won't  see  me  and 
sends  word  that  she  never  will  no  more  —  never. 
God  knows  what  it  means." 

"  And  a  few  others.  I  was  to  church  to-day  along 
with  father.  He  likes  me  to  be  with  him  there. 
They  were  asked  out  for  the  first  time :  Abel  Pierce 
and  Ilet  Yelland." 

The  Portreeve  stood  still. 

"  The  banns  called  !  " 

Dicky  nodded. 

"  She  could  let  him  do  that  without  hearing  me 
explain  ?  " 

"  Seemingly.  What  kept  you  ?  'Twas  a  ticklish 
time  to  bide  away,  after  all  that's  happened." 

"  Life  or  death  kept  me.  Miss  Horn  had  been 
thrown  out  of  her  trap,  and,  by  good  chance,  I  found 
her  unconscious  and  bleeding  to  death.  I  saved  her 
life,  no  doubt." 

"  '  Good  chance,'  you  say  ?  A  damned  bad  chance 
for  you.     And  yet  —  maybe  you're  right." 

"  How  could  I  go  on  ?      My  hands  were  full." 

"  Full  of  t'other,  no  doubt.  And  that's  what  she's 
heard.     And  that's  why  you're  out  of  the  hunt." 

"What  could  a  man  do?  Surely  common-sense  — 
humanity " 


THE   WALK   FROM    CHURCH  149 

"  Common-sense  have  lost  many  a  woman.  I'll 
swear  it  never  won  one  !  " 

"To  think  that  she " 

"  Shows  what  the  maiden's  worth,  Dodd." 

"  It  shows  I've  got  enemies  —  that's  what  it  shows. 
Would  that  ignorant  man  have  had  the  power  to  steal 
her  away  single-handed  ?  " 

"Why  not.?  He  have  a  fine  brown  face  and  a 
great  power  of  energy.  He  wasn't  so  busy  about  his 
own  affairs  as  you  neither.  Had  more  time  to  talk 
nonsense  to  her  —  an'  tell  lies.  Perhaps  she  don't 
know  her  own  mind  yet.  You  ought  to  go  back  and 
break  in  the  door,  and  stand  before  her  and  talk  a  bit 
of  stark  sense  to  her.     That's  what  she  wants  to  hear." 

The  Portreeve  shook  his  head. 

"  I  must  do  no  more,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  loved 
the  woman  better'n  anything  in  the  world ;  better'n 
any  high  hope  I  had  this  side  of  heaven.  I  thought 
and  planned  and  cut  out  the  future  for  her.  I  put  her 
first.  All  —  all  she  should  have  had.  Nought  was 
too  great  for  me  to  reach  —  for  her." 

"  You'll  go  further  alone." 

"The  cruelty  —  the  injustice  —  not  to  hear.  'Tis 
the  first  beginning  of  justice  :  to  hear.  That  she  could 
doubt  was  bad  enough.  She  ought  to  have  said,  '  I 
know  Wolferstan.  He's  not  kept  his  word,  and  for 
that  there's  a  tremendous  reason.'  She  ought  to  have 
gone  home  without  a  flutter  of  doubt.  She  ought  — 
instead,  she  jumped  to  evil  thinking  against  me.  An' 
now  she's  gone.  A  very  single-eyed  woman  once, 
Barkell.  All  or  none  with  her.  But  she  didn't  love 
me  same  as  I  loved  her." 

"  You  may  have  her  yet." 

"  A  man  has  his  pride.  He  owes  himself  that.  I 
forgive  her.  Ban't  her  fault  —  not  all  of  it.  I've 
been  wickedly  wronged  in  this ;  and  so  has  she.     But 


150  THE   PORTREEVE 

she'll  not  turn  again.  If  she  was  screwed  up  to  the 
banns,  she'll  never  turn  no  more." 

"  'Twas  a  pity  you  didn't " 

"  I  know.  I  know  all  that.  I'll  rub  that  into  my- 
self sharper  than  you  will.  I've  acted  like  a  fool.  I've 
been  too  trusting  —  too  easy  —  too  hopeful  of  good- 
ness in  all  men  —  too  ready  to  read  good  motives  in 
em. 

"  Many  cheerful  young  sparks  begin  so.  You've 
been  too  trusting  without  a  doubt.  A  great  trust  in 
people  and  an  outlook  — just  so  broad  and  high  as 
your  own  hopes.  Life's  run  a  thought  too  easy  for 
you  ;  and  you  never  counted  on  the  rough  weather, 
more  than  landsmen  that  put  out  to  sea  in  a  calm." 

" 'Tis  very  well  for  you  —  you  who  just  paddle  about 
on  the  edge  of  things  and  never  set  sail  at  all.  Well 
for  you  to  preach  !  What  do  you  know  of  the  cruel 
truth  of  things  ?  " 

"  Us  be  the  sort  to  preach,  for  that  matter.  We 
see  the  game  from  outside." 

"  Who  can  preach  to  suffering  men  that  hasn't 
suffered  himself.^  Who  can  help  to  heal  a  hurt  that 
hasn't  writhed  under  one?  To  think  of  all  she  was  to 
me,  and  all  she  said  to  me  !  Oh,  Dick,  ban't  there  no 
truth  in  'em  .?  " 

"  'Tis  mixed  with  such  a  lot  else.  Fate  have  weaved 
a  bit  of  bad  luck  for  you,  old  man.  But  don't  take  it 
over-much  to  heart.  You're  not  the  first  a  woman 
have  jilted." 

"  "Twas  not  her  fault,  I  tell  you." 

"The  end's  the  same." 

"  I  see  my  life,"  said  the  Portreeve.  "  I  see  myself 
working  as  few  men  have  worked,  leaping  to  every 
shadow  of  a  chance  to  push  ahead,  never  missing  the 
least  offer.  And  all  the  same  I've  trusted  in  man  as 
few  trust  him." 


THE    WALK    FROM    CHURCH  151 


c< 


And  in   God,"    murmured    Barkell.       "  One's   as 
tricky  as  t'other." 

"  You're  a  bitter  fool,  Dick.  But  'tisn't  God  —  'tis 
man  that  have  ill-used  me  now  —  stabbed  me  in  the 
back  —  somebody  as  never  suffered  from  me  neither, 
for  no  living  man  has  suffered  at  my  hand.  I  forgive 
Ilet  with  all  my  heart.     This  was  no  work  of  hers." 

"  Don't  fox  yourself  to  think  that.  That's  mad. 
The  banns  was  read  in  church.  They  are  all  alike, 
and  their  hearts  be  the  stones  in  beautiful  ripe  plums, 
—  hard  —  hard." 

"  He's  a  hookem-snivey  blackguard,  Dick." 
"He    is  —  when    the    wind    blows    from    Sourton. 
Nobody's  straight  all  round." 

"  He  don't  deserve  one  spark  of  happiness." 
"  Therefore  he's  the  more  like  to  have  it." 
"  I  might   take  the  law  in  my  owri  hands,  but  for 
her.     She's  chose  him." 

"  Better  you  go  to  church  and  pray.  Portreeve." 
"  You  advise  that  out  of  a  sneering  heart.     Yet  'tis 
the  properest  thing  you've  said  to  me." 

"  Shall  you  forbid  the  banns  next  Sunday  .''  " 
"  Could  a  man  that  was  a  man  .''  No  ;  she's  gone. 
There's  no  fighting  that.  Ilet  was  jealous  of  Prim- 
rose Horn  ever  since  I  knowed  her.  Often  she's 
hated  to  think  that  t'other  met  me  long  years  before 
she  did.  Things  have  worked  together  for  harm  against 
me.  'Twas  almost  as  if  an  evil  spirit  throwed  me  in 
the  other's  path  again  and  again." 

"  But  you  don't  believe  in  evil  spirits,  surely  ? 
'Twas  the  work  of  your  watching  God  —  must  have 
been." 

"An'  so  I'll  read  it,"  said  the  sufferer  stoutly. 
"  You'll  grin  and  bear  ?  " 

"  I'll  be  patient,  if  I  can.  I  don't  realise  my  loss 
yet.     Think  of  her  dead  —  dead  to  me." 


152  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Patience  is  a  grand  thing." 

"  You  think  I'm  cringing  to  my  Maker  Hke  a  cur 
under  this.  That's  because  you're  Godless  yourself 
and  don't  understand.  He'll  speak  to  me  come  pres- 
ently." 

"  I'm  afraid  He's  too  busy,  Dodd." 

"  You'll  rue  these  wicked  speeches  someday,  Richard." 

"  If  I'm  wrong,  I'll  confess  to  it  without  a  tremble; 
an'  if  His  rule  be  Love,  as  you  think  and  all  men 
hope,  then  I'll  remind  Him  to  do  unto  others  as  He'd 
be  done  by.  He  must  forgive  me  then.  Go  on  with 
your  life  and  see  where  it  lands  you.  Go  on  trusting 
in  your  Heavenly  Father  and  see  what  the  future  be 
like  that  He's  planned  for  you." 

"That  I  shall  do — as  we  all  must.  If  life  teaches 
me  to  doubt  all  living,  'twill  never  shake  my  trust  in 
Him." 

"And  let  me  be  your  friend.  I  wish  you  nothing 
but  good,  and  I'll  serve  you  with  heart  and  head  so 
long  as  it  is  in  my  power.  Don't  scoff  at  lookers-on. 
They  often  come  in  useful — if  'tis  only  to  pull  a 
fallen  man  from  under  his  horse,  or  save  a  drowning 
fellow-creature." 

"  You  try  to  shake  my  trust  in  all  things  and  then 
ax  me  to  trust  you,"  said  Wolferstan  with  some  bitter- 
ness. 

"You're  right  and  I'm  wrong,"  answered  the  other 
promptly.  "  Trust  none  —  none  —  neither  man  nor 
woman.  Go  your  way  free  and  count  all  for  enemies. 
Then  the  world  can't  disappoint  you,  and  human  nature 
can  t. 

"A  friendless  man  is  a  useless  man." 

"  Friendship's  like  beauty,  I  tell  you :  only  skin 
deep.  Won't  stand  the  strain  of  time  too  long.  Be 
tender  where  you  think  you're  fond." 

"  Good-bye,"  answered  Wolferstan.    "  'Tis  a  thought 


THE    WALK    FROM    CHURCH  153 

strange  that  such  a  cold-blooded  man  as  you  was  sent 
to  tell  me  this  harsh  news." 

"  Better  for  you  than  some  milder  fishion  of  fool, 
full  of  soft  soap  and  sympathy.  See  how  cool  you  be 
yourself:  that's  because  1  am.  If  I'd  begun  saying 
how  sorry  I  was,  you'd  have  knocked  me  down. 
You'll  understand  when  a  few  months  have  rolled 
over  you.  Good-bye — and,  trust  or  no  trust,  I'm 
your  friend  always,  and  you  know  it." 

The  men  separated  and  Dodd  Wolferstan  went 
slowly  on  towards  Bowden. 


Book   II 


CHAPTER    I 

COMBE    CLIFFS 

I  LET  YELLAND  first  heard  the  true  explanation 
of  her  old  lover's  absence  on  the  day  that  her  banns 
were  called  for  the  second  time.  The  matter  came 
through  minor  channels  :  she  did  not  learn  it  from 
Wolferstan.  Had  he  himself  told  her,  it  is  unlikely 
that  she  would  have  wavered  again  ;  but  the  Portreeve 
did  not  court  another  denial ;  and  when  Abel  Pierce 
was  called  upon  to  explain  his  statement,  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  doing  so.  It  was  not  denied  that  Miss 
Horn  had  reposed  in  her  rescuer's  arms,  and  Abel 
merely  chronicled  the  fact.  He  explained  that  he  had 
witnessed  the  tender  embrace  through  a  hedge  at  a 
considerable  distance,  and  then  gone  his  way  quite  ig- 
norant of  all  that  went  before.  He  offered  to  release 
Ilet  when  the  facts  became  known,  but  not  until  he 
knew  that  she  had  determined  with  herself.  Dodd  was 
right  when  he  said  the  woman  did  not  easily  change. 
With  very  genuine  and  bitter  grief  she  took  the  great 
step  of  throwing  him  over;  but  having  done  so,  she 
did  not  turn  back  or  look  back.  Conscious  of  wrong  in 
right  and  right  in  wrong,  believing  the  threads  of  this 
misfortune  too  tangled  for  extrication,  she  balanced 
Wolferstan's  errors  against  her  own,  and  banished  the 
subject  by  force  of  will  and  natural  narrow^ness  of 
mind.  A  ravel  of  issues  was  hateful  to  her ;  doubt 
and  uncertainty   and    weighing    of  contending    claims 

157 


158  THE    PORTREEVE 

drove  her  mad.  Her  brain  was  not  constituted  to 
endure  this  exercise. 

Abel  Pierce  became  her  life.  She  refused  to  torture 
her  mind  any  more  with  a  dark  and  difficult  past ;  but 
thrust  it  and  all  that  belonged  to  it  away  and  faced 
the  future  resolutely.  For  Pierce  —  as  part  of  him,  to 
toil  and  fight  for  him  and  only  him,  she  now  stood. 
She  was  not  logical  and  she  was  not  reasonable  ;  but 
it  cannot  be  denied  that,  having  decided,  she  was  sen- 
sible. Her  mind  fashioned  in  one  compartment,  con- 
tained no  room  for  large  synthetical  operations,  and 
abstract  justice  was  not  a  quality  of  it.  But  she  had  a 
power  of  deliberately  narrowing  her  outlook,  and  such 
limitation  of  interest  begot  increased  intensity,  as  a 
stream  wastes  its  strength  upon  the  broad  shallows  but 
applies  it  to  full  purpose  in  some  narrow  channel. 
Abel  Pierce,  if  a  bad  man,  was  a  good  lover.  He  and 
Ilet  made  immediate  preparations  for  their  marriage. 
He  engaged  himself  to  do  permanent  work  at  Meldon 
quarry ;  she  promised  to  come  and  live  at  Fishcombe 
cottage  at  his  wish. 

Within  six  months  Ilet  was  married.  She  set  about 
the  business  of  wifehood  in  a  staunch  spirit  that  turned 
neither  to  the  right  nor  left ;  while  as  for  Abel,  he  soon 
felt  the  pricks  grow  blunt,  and  from  uneasiness  at  his 
past  knavery,  drifted  into  indifference  and  thence  to 
content.  He  was  proud  of  Ilet,  and  she  blessed  his 
home  abundantly.  All  envied  him  such  sustained 
happiness.  He  had  a  mother  and  wife  who  lived 
for  him  and  ministered  to  his  every  want,  softened  his 
dark  moments,  shared  his  hopes  and  strengthened  his 
ambitions.  Ilet  imparted  her  outlook  to  him.  He  grew 
more  self-respecting  and  was  presently  promoted  to  be 
foreman  of  a  quarry  gang.  He  saved  weekly;  he  fell  in 
with  his  mother's  wish  —  vain  till  now  —  and  often 
took  her  to  church  on  Sunday.     But  Ilet  was  not  fond 


COMBE    CLIFFS  159 

of  worship,  for  it  served  always  to  remind  her  of 
Wolferstan.  Therefore  she  usually  stopped  at  home 
and  cooked  the  dinner. 

The  Portreeve  sank  to  a  name  by  Fishcombe  Head 
Water,  though  Pierce,  now  himself  grown  desirous  to 
rise  above  a  labourer's  life,  watched  the  other's  progress 
keenly.  No  jealousy  marked  this  attitude.  Pie  was 
glad  to  see  Dodd  prosper,  and  his  old  enemy's  success 
illogically  but  naturally  soothed  his  own  conscience. 
One  uneasiness  reigned  in  his  heart,  however,  for 
Wolferstan's  engagement  to  Primrose  Plorn  was  not 
announced.  Daily  he  expected  it,  but  the  news  never 
came.  Ilet  also  could  not  escape  from  thought  upon 
that  matter,  and  she  marvelled  that  her  former  lover 
remained  single.  To  her,  as  to  her  husband,  the  fact 
that  he  should  do  so  was  painful ;  and  in  addition, 
Abel  went  under  a  secret  care,  for  his  accomplice  never 
acknowledged  him  again  after  the  day  of  her  accident. 
They  met  more  than  once  alone,  but  she  appeared  to 
have  forgotten  his  existence  and  passed  him  without  a 
sign.  At  first  he  was  satisfied  at  this  and  felt  it  to  be 
right  and  wise  ;  but  when  months  went  by  and  Wolfer- 
stan remained  unbetrothed,  Pierce  grew  anxious  and 
wondered  if  Primrose  —  in  face  of  the  Portreeve's 
indifference — would  not  presently  plan  a  revenge  which 
might  involve  his  welfare.  He  was  haunted  by  the 
fear  for  a  time  ;  then  it  faded,  and  with  passage  of  days 
his  content  increased,  and  he  lived  in  the  full  bliss  of 
the  time  and  found  each  hour  with  Ilet  a  feast. 

Wolferstan  likewise  pursued  his  road.  None  knew 
of  the  full  bitterness  of  his  grief  or  the  darkness  of 
spirit  that  encompassed  him  for  many  months.  It  was 
significant  of  his  genuine  love  that  even  ambition 
fainted  awhile  beneath  this  blow.  In  his  tribulation 
periods  of  natural  rage  flooded  the  man's  mind,  and  he 
had  much  ado  to  control  his  wrath  and  deny  It  shape 


i6o  THE    PORTREEVE 

of  action.  But  in  these  earlier  years  Wolferstan  was 
at  his  best.  He  had  ripened  swiftly  and  attained  to 
fruition  while  yet  young.  He  had  matured  without 
any  winter  of  sorrow  to  sweeten  him.  The  sun  of 
religion  had  burnt  upon  his  heart  and  wrought  it  to 
mellowness.  The  Rock  of  Ages  was  no  mythic  image 
or  poetical  conceit  to  him  ;  it  proved  a  present  sup- 
port and  refuge  in  his  first  great  trouble.  Prayer 
heartened  him,  soothed  his  soul,  woke  a  great  patience, 
and  even  restored  his  native  cheerfulness  after  the 
passing  of  time.  AVithout  being  shallow,  he  was  yet 
one  whose  emotions  were  more  keen  than  deep.  ReH- 
gion  for  such  a  nature  often  suffices.  It  guides  the 
grief-stricken  swiftly  through  the  pinch  of  affliction, 
and  offers  the  needed  anodyne  during  moments  of 
critical  stress.  But  more  subterranean  spirits  find  it 
vain.  Them  a  master-sorrow  dominates  for  ever  and, 
while  hidden  from  all  eyes,  still  lives  and  leaves  its 
scorch  upon  the  heart,  its  furrows  and  haggard  traces 
in  the  soul.  Faith  is  seldom  the  strength  of  men  who 
feel  so  deeply  ;  and  reason  cannot  dry  all  tears.  To  the 
rational  sufferer  separation  is  eternal,  death  final.  His 
stern  solace  is  the  knowledge  that  he  endures  the  imme- 
morial tortures  of  all  conscious  existence  since  its  dawn 
in  tertiary  times  ;  that  the  dust  under  his  feet  has  suf- 
fered as  he  suffers  to-day;  that  after  eight  thousand  years 
of  man,  no  human  agony  is  new  ;  and  that  the  thing 
which  cannot  be  borne  brings  its  own  end  with  it.  And 
if  he  is  strong  to  survive  and  go  on  with  life  and  justify 
his  days,  for  him  Time,  who  forgets  no  sorrowful 
heart,  shall  presently  tend  the  inner,  everlasting  wounds, 
so  that  they  throb  with  intermittent  stroke  alone. 

Wolferstan,  in  fine  humility,  looked  to  his  religion 
to  lift  him  above  this  mighty  trial ;  and  faith,  triumph- 
ing over  the  blow,  brought  him  steadily  back  to  peace. 
In  due  season  the  dominant  forces  of  his  own  nature 


COMBE    CLIFFS  i6i 

reasserted  themselves  and  obliterated  the  poignant  de- 
tails of  the  past.  After  three  months  he  was  lifting  his 
head  again  among  men,  again  teaching  his  boys  those 
Bible  lessons  which  he  believed  lay  at  the  root  of  tem- 
porary human  happiness  and  eternal  human  prosperity. 
His  own  trials  he  doubted  not  were  sent  for  high  pur- 
poses by  a  watchful  God.  He  suspected  that  they 
would  raise  him,  fortify  him,  arm  him  against  the  fur- 
ther problems  that  life  held  hidden.  He  did  not  re- 
pine ;  he  endured  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  was 
a  germ  of  pride  that  he  had  stood  so  strong  against  the 
storm.  He  told  himself  in  side-flashes  of  thought 
(which  yet  shamed  him  by  their  vainglory)  that  a  man 
who  would  come  out  of  this  furnace  unscathed  might 
face  any  future  with  hope.  He  supposed  that  love 
had  been  the  first  passion  in  him,  and  that  this  ordeal 
must,  therefore,  have  exceeded  any  possible  tribulation 
that  time  could  bring ;  but  herein  he  erred.  There 
was  that  in  his  nature  that  sank  deeper  and  rose  higher 
than  love  of  women.  It  remained  to  be  seen  whether 
his  guides  would  be  strong  enough  to  surmount  attacks 
on  his  ambitions  and  the  very  fabric  of  his  life's  work. 

For  the  present  he  plunged  into  affairs  and  found  in 
ceaseless  toil  a  respite  from  thought.  Minor  successes 
fell  to  his  lot.  He  sought  and  obtained  an  excellent 
commission  to  provide  photographs  for  a  forthcoming 
work;  he  also  undertook  various  important  duties  for 
Mr,  Horn,  who  was  indisposed  during  spring-time. 
To  Dodd  fell  the  conduct  of  some  considerable  stock 
sales,  together  with  attendance  at  markets.  After  his 
own  judgment  of  horned  beasts,  the  farmer  rated  most 
highly  that  of  Wolferstan ;  and  since  the  Portreeve 
entertained  a  lively  regard  for  his  old  master,  he  was 
glad  enough  to  serve  in  this  matter.  The  work  an- 
swered a  twofold  purpose,  for  it  advantaged  Alexander 
Horn  and  introduced  the  Portreeve  to  new  and  influen- 

M 


i6z  THE    PORTREEVE 

tial  people.  He  had  a  genius  for  pleasing  his  betters, 
winning  their  interest  and  securing  their  goodwill. 

With  April  it  happened  that  he  was  in  North  Corn- 
wall, and  his  work  took  him  to  the  historic  hamlet  of 
Combe,  nigh  Morwenstow.  Having  swiftly  decided 
against  certain  purchases,  he  found  himself  with  an 
hour  to  spare  before  his  trap  should  return. 

The  great  voice  of  the  sea  drew  him,  and,  descend- 
ing through  the  valley,  where  a  trout  stream  glittered 
under  budding  sallows,  he  approached  the  beach 
and  stood  in  home  of  the  west  wind.  Before  him 
league-long  surges  rolled,  and  the  great  song  of  sea  and 
stone  murmured  upon  his  ear. 

Now  chanced  a  meeting  that  served  much  to  astonish 
two  people,  and  created  a  very  mistaken  impression  in 
the  mind  of  one. 

After  her  accident  Miss  Horn  had  chosen  to  persist 
in  a  very  long  convalescence  ;  but  nothing  came  of  it, 
Wolferstan  called  thrice  to  learn  how  she  fared.  Once 
she  saw  him,  and  he  expressed  sympathy  and  concern 
for  her  ;  but  his  mind  was  obviously  very  full  of  his 
own  affairs,  and  his  manner  was  often  absent. 

Concerning  Primrose  at  this  moment  he  only  knew 
that  she  was  from  home,  and  his  astonishment  appeared 
in  his  face  as  she  suddenly  confronted  him  on  Combe 
beach.  The  tide  was  low  and  they  met  where  a  ridge 
of  rock  glimmered  from  barred  sands,  shone  with  sepia- 
coloured  weed  and  exuded  the  sweetness  of  the  sea. 
Westerly  the  foam  flew  and  great,  oncoming  waves 
rolled  leaden  against  the  lighter  grey  of  the  sky. 

Primrose,  who  was  visiting  a  friend  at  Combe  Mill, 
found  it  natural  to  start  and  flush  at  this  surprise. 
Ignorant  of  the  truth,  she  supposed  that  Wolferstan 
was  here  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  her.  It  appeared 
most  improbable  that  this  lengthy  expedition  could 
have  been   made  for  any  lesser  reason.     In  fact,  she 


COMBE    CLIFFS  163 

doubted  not  that  her  reward  was  at  hand.  She  let  her 
hunger  and  thirst  run  riot.  Her  eyes  shone  upon 
him.  She  uttered  a  Httle,  glad,  inarticulate  sound  and 
held  out  her  hands. 

He  took  one  of  them  and  she  let  the  other  fall 
quickly. 

"  What  a  surprise  to  see  you  here,"  he  said.  "  I 
wonder  which  of  us  has  astonished  the  other  most  ?  " 

"  Why,  surely  you,"  she  answered.  "  I  suppose  you 
knew  that  I  was  here ;  but  how  could  I  expect  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  no.  I  only  knew  you  were  away.  The 
governor  was  so  busy  about  business  with  Tresiddaup 
the  valley,  that  he  quite  forgot  to  tell  me  you  were  at 
Combe." 

"  Then  I  shall  lecture  him  for  such  selfishness  when 
I  go  home.  You've  made  me  feel  quite  shaky.  Let 
us  stop  here  a  minute  and  watch  the  sea  creep  up." 

They  sat  silent  a  moment  and  watched  where  the 
Atlantic  came,  like  the  trampling  of  an  army  to  the 
music  of  breaking  waves. 

"  I  do  hope  you  are  really  quite  yourself  again,"  he 
said. 

"Oh  yes  —  well  enough.  And  you.?  You  must 
let  me  dare  to  touch  an  old  wound  —  a  deeper  one  than 
mine." 

"  Thank  God  it  was  no  worse  with  you." 

"  And  thank  God  yours  was  no  worse,  dear  Dodd. 
I've  heard  everything.  It's  ruined  my  life.  'Twas 
all  my  doing.  The  heart-broken  nights  I've  had  ! 
To  think  —  to  think  —  I've  altered  all  your  life.  I 
wish  I  had  died  sooner." 

She  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  the  spectacle 
of  her  tearful  and  moist  loveliness  made  him  feel  gentle. 

"  Don't  say  that.  Nothing  happens  that's  not 
overruled.  Primrose.  'Twas  a  terrible,  shattering 
trouble ;  but  it  had  to    be.     We    plot  and   we   plan. 


1 64  THE   PORTREEVE 

and  we  count  on  the  future  with  large  trust ;  but  the 
outcome  of  things  isn't  our  work." 

"  Only  'tis  hard  through  tears  to  see  the  Hand  that 
guides,"  she  said.  "  You've  got  such  wonderful  faith 
to  light  your  dark  places.  I  wish  you  could  teach  me 
to  trust  like  you  can." 

"  If  you  long  to  do  it,  and  have  the  will,  the  rest  is 
easy,"  he  assured  her.     Then  he  preached  a  little. 

Primrose  began  to  feel  bored  and  cold.  Her  sudden 
flame  of  hope  perished  and  left  a  bad  odour  in  her 
soul.  The  great  waves  came  closer  and  shafts  of  foam 
leapt  like  feathers  against  the  ocean-facing  rocks.  The 
sea  surged  into  every  pool  and  brought  back  the  salt 
of  life  to  unnumbered  things.  There  came  dull,  hollow 
blows  and  reverberations  ;  then  sheaves  of  glittering 
water  spouted  aloft  and  fell  with  a  splash,  like  a  sigh, 
upon  the  tumbling  green  below.  Light  broke  through 
the  clouds  ;  wan  fans  of  radiance  fell  and  spread  in 
pools  of  gold  upon  the  face  of  the  sea. 

Primrose  put  herself  out  of  her  misery. 

"  Why  are  you  here,  since  it  was  not  to  see  me,  I'm 
afraid  ?  " 

"That's  a  very  unexpected  pleasure,  truly." 

"Yet  I'm  glad  you  came.  I've  had  it  in  my  mind 
to  write  to  you.  Indeed,  I  began,  but  couldn't  find 
the  words.  When  I  think  of  you,  I  always  fall  into 
weakness  and  shame  for  the  unconscious  wrong  I  have 
done  you." 

"Don't  say  it  or  think  it  more.     'Tisn't  so." 


"  You  forgive  me  ?  " 


"  There's  nothing  to  forgive.  You  were  never  to 
blame." 

"  I  feel  —  I  feel  so  strange  with  you  —  like  a  slave 
—  as  if  I  belonged  to  you  in  a  sort  of  way.  I  ruined 
your  life  and  you  —  you  saved  mine.  Yes — saved  it. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  why." 


COMBE    CLIFFS  165 

"Your  beautiful,  brave  life,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
"  No,  I  can  hardly  claim  such  a  great  deed  as  saving 
it.  But  I'm  glad  'twas  me,  an*  no  stranger  man,  came 
just  then." 

"  You  can  say  that  and  remember  the  dreadful 
result  ^ " 

"  I  don't  join  the  two  ideas  in  my  mind." 

"  Then  I  am  glad  too — oh,  so  thankful!  I  should 
have  died  afterwards  to  think  that  any  human  being 
had  touched  me  but  you.      But  you " 

She  broke  off,  took  his  hand  suddenly  between  hers 
and  kissed  it.      He  grew  red. 

"  Don't — don't,  for  God's  sake  !  "  he  cried.  "  An 
unworthy  thing  like  me  !  " 

She  turned  away  from  him.  Her  emotion  was 
genuine  enough ;  but  disappointment  and  irritation 
formed  the  first  ingredients  thereof.  Wolferstan,  not 
being  a  fool,  understood  and  yearned  to  escape.  The 
possibility  of  marrying  Primrose  had  indeed  occurred 
to  him  on  one  occasion,  after  seeing  her  since  his  own 
catastrophe;  but  that  shock  was  too  recent;  Ilet  was 
too  constant  a  dweller  in  his  mind  to  leave  room  for 
serious  thoughts  of  any  other  woman.  Now  the  busi- 
ness was  thrust  rather  crudely  uppermost  again  ;  and 
he  recoiled  —  from  no  dislike  of  Primrose,  for  he  felt 
the  gentleness  bred  in  any  man's  soul  by  love  declared 
; —  but  because  the  time  was  far  from  ripe. 

"You  forgive  me  —  say  it,"  she  murmured,  looking 
at  the  sea. 

"  Indeed,  yes.  I  don't  want  to  think  any  more 
about  it.  And  I  can't  talk  about  it.  'Tis  terrible 
near  still.     Presently " 

"  If  by  flinging  myself  into  that  great  sea  and  drown- 
ing there,  I  could  bring  back  happiness  to  you  and 
your  faith  in  woman,  I'd  do  it  and  die  gladly." 

"  You  mustn't  say  such  things.     Who  am  I  to  lose 


1 66  THE   PORTREEVE 

faith  in  man  or  woman  either  ?  This  that  has  hap- 
pened to  me  was  woven  in  the  web.  It  had  to  be. 
Nothing  from  outside  can  lastingly  harm  a  man. 
That's  my  faith.      Let  them  as  do  the  evil  look  to  it." 

"  You've  paid,  however,"  she  answered  quietly. 

His  patience  failed  to  win  her  admiration,  albeit 
patience  was  her  own  strongest  quality. 

A  wave  spread  in  successive  transparent  layers,  foam- 
fringed,  at  their  feet.  It  hurtled  slantwise,  like  the 
sweep  of  a  liquid  scythe,  and  gathered  a  harvest  of 
tinkling  shells  to  its  bosom.  The  sand  hissed  and 
shone ;  a  few  great  bubbles  trembled  and  burst. 

"  We  must  be  going,"  said  Dodd.  Fie  did  not  an- 
swer her  last  speech.  A  pathway  known  to  Primrose 
wound  up  the  face  of  the  cliif.  Now  she  took  him  by 
it  and  their  conversation  touched  general  subjects  and 
found  him  easier.  He  told  her  the  news  concerning 
his  photographs  and  the  work  for  her  father. 

The  time  passed  and  the  sky  largely  cleared  as  it 
made  ready  for  night.  The  man  and  woman  looked 
out  upon  a  semi-circle  of  mighty  cliffs  that  shone  in 
the  radiance  of  the  west.  The  illumination  played  on 
their  dark  faces,  searched  their  rifts  and  crags,  lightened 
their  gloomy  planes.  Fading  away  into  the  atmos- 
phere, they  sank  southerly,  and  strata  swept  with 
many  an  undulation  upon  their  foreheads,  where  they 
stood  with  wrinkled,  sightless  brows  bent  seaward. 
Over  them  there  brooded  the  breath  of  ocean  made 
visible.  It  softened  each  shelf  and  precipice,  pinnacle 
and  island  rock ;  it  blurred  the  distance  gently  and 
glowed  into  red  gold  as  the  sun  descended.  Over  the 
desolation  of  the  shore  it  floated,  dilated ;  now  hung, 
like  a  mock  sun,  upon  the  last  confines  of  earth;  now 
spread,  like  a  cloud,  even  to  the  lips  of  the  sea.  It 
was  as  though  the  ambient  air  caught  fire  and  burned. 


CHAPTER    II 


LUCK    FOR    SLANNING 


ON  a  day  when  the  young  year  grew  beautiful  with 
flowers  and  musical  with  song,  Orlando  Slanning 
was  fortunate  and  met  Miss  Horn  beside  the 
river.  He  had  not  seen  her  for  some  months,  and  his 
repeated  inquiries  since  her  accident  had  met  no 
warmer  response  than  acknowledgment ;  but  to-day, 
while  fishing  in  Oke,  midway  between  Homerton  Hill 
and  the  great  gorge  of  Meldon,  Primrose  met  him  and 
brought  joy  to  his  spirit.  He  had  just  creeled  a  half- 
pounder,  when  his  '  March  Brown,'  instead  of  drop- 
ping at  the  edge  of  a  little,  oily  back-water,  where 
yellow  foam  danced  under  an  overhanging  bank,  went 
three  inches  wide  and  got  foul  of  a  root  that  thrust  out 
from  the  earth.  Pie  knew  the  pool  beneath  as  being 
often  good  for  a  fish,  but  now  his  chance  was  lost ; 
therefore  Orlando,  with  a  mild  expletive,  grounded  his 
rod  and  looked  for  a  place  to  cross  that  he  might 
liberate  his  fly.  The  fisherman  walked  fifty  yards 
downstream  and  suddenly  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  Primrose.  She  was  strolling  beside  the  water  and 
with  her  came  three  cheerful  fox-terriers  and  a  re- 
triever who,  though  elderly,  yet  felt  spring  in  his 
bones  and  gambolled  with  the  others. 

At  the  breast  of  Miss  Horn  was  a  flower,  and  in 
her  hand  a  whip.  She  was  looking  exceedingly  well 
and  appeared  slightly  pleased  to  see  the  sportsman. 
He  rejoiced  at  her  friendly  greeting  and  forgot  all 
about  his  rod. 

167 


i68  THE    PORTREEVE 

"What  frightful  good  luck  !  "  he  said.  "  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  again  —  thankful,  in  fact." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  he  shook  it  a  long 
time.  Then  he  patted  each  dog  in  turn.  They  had 
all  rushed  up  at  the  welcome  spectacle  of  a  sportsman. 

"  You  don't  want  a  perfect  '  wire-haired '  pup,  I 
suppose  ?  I  can  get  you  a  little  three-months-old 
bitch  that's  a  dream  — really,"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head  and  they  strolled  together, 
while  he  asked  warmly  concerning  her  health. 

"  When  I  heard  about  that  appalling  accident,  I 
could  have  cut  my  throat  to  think  it  wasn't  I  who 
saved  you.  The  ghastly  luck  some  men  have  —  and 
don't  seem  to  know  it — that's  the  maddening  part." 

Primrose  seconded  this  sentiment  in  secret.  Her 
visible  answer  was  the  faintest  blush. 

"  I'm  quite  well  again  —  have  been  for  months.  It 
was  hardly  so  serious  as  people  supposed." 

"  It  hasn't  hurt  your  nerve?  Don't  say  that.  It 
would  be  a  county  misfortune  if  you  chucked  hunting." 

"  My  nerve  is  all  right.  I  shall  hunt  again  next 
season." 

"My  poor  old  governor's  going  down  the  hill  fast. 
I  wish  I  could  take  the  pain  for  him.  It's  cruel  to 
see  him  suffer." 

"  I  am  very  sorry.  Why  don't  the  doctors  let  him 
go  out  of  his  misery  —  like  we  do  with  dumb  things  ?" 

"  What  an  idea  !  He'll  be  gone  soon  enough,  poor 
old  chap:  then  I  must  begin  to  take  life  seriously." 

"  You're  too  old  to  begin  now." 

"  I'd  start  to-morrow  if  I  had  any  inducement.  I'm 
rather  a  clever  chap  in  a  way — really  I  am  —  to  say 
it  without  boasting.  A  wide  experience  of  life.  But 
I'm  a  soldier  by  instinct." 

"  Still  ?  " 

"  Don't  !     You  do  laugh  at  a  chap  so." 


LUCK    FOR    SLANNING  i6g 

"A  versatile  man  —  and  volatile  too." 

"Versatile,  perhaps  —  not  t'other  thing.  I  don't 
change  —  not  in  some  matters,  God  knows.  I  can 
tell  perfection  when  I  see  it." 

"Can  you?  How?  One  hasn't  many  oppor- 
tunities of  judging  that." 

"No — jolly  few;  but  I'm  the  sort  of  man  that 
doesn't  miss  the  rare  chance  when  it  offers.  My 
knowledge  of  your  sex  is  pretty  deep,  Miss  Horn." 

"  You  honour  us  by  thinking  so  much  about  us." 

He  missed  the  mild  irony  and  was  gratified. 

"Yes;  and  when  I  tell  you  that  I've  met  feminine 
perfection  at  last,  you  must  forgive  me  for  being 
obstinate." 

"Not  in  Plymouth?" 

"  Blessed  if  I  don't  believe  you  understand  me 
inside  out !  I  should  like  to  know  what  is  in  your 
mmd. 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  you  would." 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  as  his  rod  came  in  sight 
standing  beside  the  river  ;  "  do  me  an  enormous  favour 
—  please  do." 

"Of  course  —  if  I  can." 

"  Are  you  in  a  hurry  to-day  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  Then  lunch  with  me.  I  implore  it.  You'll  make 
me  happy  for  a  week  if  you  will.  You  know  my 
mother  always  puts  up  lunch  for  three  people  when  I 
go  fishing.  Do  stop  and  share  my  sandwiches  and 
things.  I  beseech  you.  I  make  a  very  great  favour 
of  it." 

All  right,  if  you  like." 

Hurrah  —  three  cheers  —  my  luck's  up  !  " 

He  swung  a  big  creel  off  his  shoulder  and  produced 
packets  of  sandwiches,  hard-boiled  eggs  and  cake  tied 
up  in  silver  paper.     A  great  flask  also  appeared. 


I70  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  If  I  had  only  known,"  he  said,  "  I'd  have  gone  to 
Plymouth  yesterday  and  bought  the  daintiest  and  most 
delicious  things  —  a  lunch  fit  for  a  queen  —  and  a 
bottle  of  sparkling  moselle  with  the  muscat  grape  taste 
you  like." 

"  Glad  you  didn't  know,  then.  I'll  sit  here.  Any 
sport  ?  " 

"  A  dozen  little  chaps  and  a  few  decent  ones.  I 
was  going  to  bring  them  to  Bowden  on  my  way  home, 
hoping  you'd  accept  'em." 

"  Gladly.  Father  loves  a  trout.  I've  been  lazy 
this  year.      I'm  right  off  fishing." 

"  You're  an  awful  dab  at  it." 

She  looked  at  his  fish  and  smelt  their  savour. 

"  They  half  tempt  me,"  she  said.  "  Get  across  and 
clear  your  fly,  and  I'll  unpack." 

As  happy  as  the  dogs,  Orlando  obeyed.  He  pur- 
posely chose  a  perilous  pass  and  leapt  with  great  agility 
from  rock  to  rock  ;  but  she  was  not  interested  in  the 
display.  A  flash  of  light  had  caught  her  eye  some 
distance  up  the  river,  and  she  saw  a  man's  shirt  hang- 
ing on  a  line.  It  stood  near  the  dwelling  of  Abel 
Pierce,  though  the  house  was  not  visible  from  her 
standpoint. 

When  Slanning  returned,  his  luncheon  was  spread 
on  paper  plates,  and  Primrose  already  had  a  sandwich 
in  her  hand.  The  dogs  drew  up  and  sat  in  an  amiable, 
inquiring  circle,  with  lolling  tongues  and  hopeful 
expressions. 

"  You  were  right,"  said  the  guest.  "  I'm  sure  there 
is  more  food  than  you  wanted  here.  These  sandwiches 
are  much  too  good  for  a  man." 

"  They  are  ;  but,  from  a  mother's  silly  point  of  view, 
nothing's  too  good  for  a  son." 

He  watched  her  eat  with  delight. 

"  Always  my  luck,"  he  said.     "  I  hesitated  between 


LUCK    FOR    SLANNING  171 

whiskey  and  sherry  this  morning,  and  of  course  chose 
the  wrong  one." 

"  From  my  point  of  taste  or  yours  ?  " 

"  From  yours." 

"  I'm  indifferent.  I  very,  very  seldom  take  any- 
thing.     I  love  beer " 

"  So  do  I  —  only  it's  too "  he  was  going  to  say 

*  fattening,'  but  saved  himself.  "  Too  dangerous  for 
a  gouty  man." 

"You're  not  gouty  ?  " 

"  No,  but  my  mother's  father  was.  I'm  always  in 
a  funk  of  it." 

Presently  he  fetched  water  from  the  river  for  her. 
Then,  while  he  loaded  his  pipe,  she  took  his  rod. 

"  Try  the  pool  where  I  got  hung  up,"  he  said. 
"  There's  often  a  fish  there." 

She  flung  a  careful  fly,  moved  a  small  trout  but 
failed  to  hook  him.  Then  her  native  instinct  awoke 
and  she  went  forward,  fishing  the  stream  in  the  usual 
moorland  fashion. 

"  Try  the  deep  water,"  he  cried  to  her.  "  They're 
not  in  the  stickles  to-day." 

He  lighted  his  pipe,  picked  up  his  creel  and  the 
mackintosh  he  had  spread  for  her  to  sit  upon  ;  then 
followed  at  a  distance.  Presently  Primrose  hooked  a 
fish  and  in  half  a  minute  had  him  at  her  feet.  There- 
upon Slanning  made  great  play  with  his  landing-net, 
though  the  size  of  the  trout  rendered  this  quite  unnec- 
essary. The  woman  was  in  a  good  temper  now,  and 
he  felt  it.  A  sudden  inspiration  seized  him  to  strike 
while  the  iron  was  hot  and  put  the  familiar  question 
once  again.  Something  in  the  vernal  weather  and  in  her 
apparent  cheerfulness  made  him  feel  almost  sanguine. 
She  refused  to  fish  again  and  bade  him  return  the  trout 
to  the  river. 

"  I  hate  killing  these  undersized  things,"  she  said. 


172  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  It's  not  sportsmanlike.     They  ought  to  make  it  a 


crime." 


"  The  Oke  is  poached  a  lot,"  he  declared.  Then 
they  crossed  the  river  and  ascended  a  little  way  on  the 
other  side.  From  this  vantage  ground  the  cottage  of 
Pierce  appeared  gleaming  white  and  nestling  in  its 
proper  dimple  of  two  hills,  like  a  pearl  in  a  woman's 
bosom. 

"  I'll  bet  that  beggar  takes  good  toll  of  this  water," 
said  Orlando. 

"  He  is  called  Pierce,"  she  said.  "  He  works  at  the 
railway  quarry.  He  married  that  young  woman  who 
was  once  said  to  be  engaged  to  Mr.  Wolferstan." 

"By  Jove!  Fancy!  What  an  escape  !  But  lots  of 
rising  men  marry  while  still  in  the  chrysalis  stage,  and 
then,  when  they  turn  into  butterflies  and  find  their 
wives  still  remaining  grubs,  they  get  sick  about  it  and 
are  sorry  they  married  at  all." 

Primrose  was  slightly  astonished  at  the  remark. 

"  Since  when  did  you  grow  so  observant?"  she  asked. 

"  I  heard  your  mother  say  that.  Though  I'd  often 
thought  it  myself  before.  I  am  a  philosopher  in  a 
small  way  —  really.  If  not,  I  should  have  cut  my 
throat  long  ago." 

"  More  fools  than  philosophers  do  that.  What 
catastrophe  ever  made  you  think  of  such  a  step  ?  " 

"  A  series.  I  can  give  you  the  dates,  if  you  like. 
They  mean  a  lot  to  me  —  not  much  to  you,  I'm 
afraid.  The  last  tragic  event  was  at  the  end  of 
August  —  one  week  before  the  colt-drift." 

She  recollected  a  proposal. 

"  I  remember.  Don't  shorten  your  days  on  that 
account.  Here's  my  path.  I  must  climb  up  over 
South  Down  and  so  home.     You'll  go  on  fishing." 

"  No,  I  shan't.  I'm  coming  with  you.  Let  me 
carry  these  trout  to  the  governor." 


LUCK    FOR    SLANNING  173 


As  you  please  —  and  have  a  cup  of  tea." 
Thanks  awfully  —  this  is  a  red-letter  day  for  me. 
I  want  to  hear  all  about  your  dreadful  accident  from 
your  own  lips,  you  know." 

"  I've  forgotten  all  the  particulars,  I'm  glad  to  say." 

"  I  wager  the  Portreeve  hasn't." 

"  I  think  he  has." 

"Dolt  —  ruffian  —  boor!  How  extraordinary  it 
is  the  way  that  fellow  prospers." 

"Why   extraordinary?     He's   a  very  clever  man." 

"  I  don't  know.  He  called  me  *  poor  Slanning.' 
That  was  meant  insolently.  I'm  awfully  touchy,  you 
know  —  every  soldier  is.  I  met  him  a  month  ago 
right  bang  in  the  middle  of  the  Moor.  I  was  riding ; 
he  was  on  foot  with  his  photograph  machine.  A  mist 
came  down  on  us  like  night,  and  I  was  clean  beat  by 
it;  but  he  wasn't — knew  every  boulder  we  passed 
apparently.  I  admit  he  is  very  civil-spoken,  as  a  rule, 
for  a  man  in  that  position.  He  showed  me  the  way 
and  had  evidently  quite  forgotten  that  little  business  at 
the  drift  —  when  I  — made  rather  a  fool  of  myself" 

"  Yes." 

"I   say — between  friends,   Miss   Horn  —  does    he 

?     I  can't  help  asking  —  yet  —  of  course  it's  no 

business  of  mine.     Yet " 


"  Look  !  "  she  said.  "  D'you  see  that  speck  at  the 
cottage  door  down  there  ?  That  is  the  woman  Mr. 
Wolferstan  wanted  to  marry  ;  but  she  threw  him  over." 

"  Hard  to  believe.  Why  ?  Did  anybody  in  our 
class  of  society  ever  hear  ?  " 

"  It  was  known.  An  unfortunate  misunderstand- 
mg. 

"Well  —  what  does  it  matter  ?  Or  her?  Or  any- 
thing in  the  world  but  you  and  me  ?  Stop  for  two 
minutes  while  I  take  down  my  rod.  I  can't  talk  and 
climb  both.     And  I  want  some  fresh  fern  for  the  fish." 


174  THE    PORTREEVE 

They  found  a  flat  stone  and  rested  awhile.  The 
dogs  yelped,  squeaked  and  scurried  every  way,  hunting 
rabbits  in  the  furze.  Far  below,  separated  from  them 
by  the  great  hill  and  the  river,  like  a  silver  ribbon  at 
its  feet,  a  woman  still  stood  and  gazed  before  her. 

"  I  suppose  it's  mad  to  begin  again ;  but  I  can't 
help  it.  It's  my  life — my  God — really  —  religion  — 
everything.  You,  I  mean.  If  you  could  only  think 
it  was  good  enough  ;  but  I  suppose  it  isn't.  You're 
never  out  of  my  mind  ten  minutes  together  —  solemn 
truth.  I'm  a  frightfully  steadfast  chap.  I  shall  never 
change —  never." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  will  ;  and  find  somebody  much  more 
interesting  than  I  am  !  " 

"You  know  better.     Do  think  of  it.  Primrose." 

"  Haven't  I  ?  " 

"If  it's  the  mill,  I  don't  care  a  damn  about  that. 
I'd  sell  it  —  anything." 

"  It's  not  the  mill.  I  like  the  mill  very  much. 
A  pleasant  home  for  anybody.  You'll  do  well  to  be 
a  miller  and  live  in  sound  of  that  great,  hard-working 
wheel,  and  learn  from  it.  You  must  do  something. 
Why  not  that .?  " 

"Yes — with  you.  I'd  be  happy  enough  at  Slan- 
ning's — or  anywhere  —  with  you.  It's  you  or  no- 
body." 

"  We  must  go  on  with  our  lives,"  she  answered ; 
and  in  her  voice  was  irresolution. 

"  Yes ;  but  how  jolly  hard  with  this  doubt  and 
misery  turning  my  hair  grey." 

"  Grey  hair  would  tone  you  down  and  give  you  a 
very  distinguished  look.  You  ought  to  thank  me  if 
I'm  doing  that." 

He  sighed  mightily  and  regarded  his  boots  and 
stockings. 

"  I'll  never  change,"  he  repeated. 


LUCK    FOR    SLANNING  175 


Perhaps  I  shall." 
That's  something." 

Her  eyes  were  upon  the  remote  cottage.  They 
passed  over  the  great  declivities  of  blue  stone,  white- 
thorn and  blazing  furze,  then  rested  on  the  home  of 
Met  Pierce. 

"  'Tis  human  nature  to  change.  At  least  you  can 
find  room  in  your  heart  for  love.  That's  in  your 
favour." 

"  Room  !  what  sane  man  that  knows  you  could  find 
room  for  anything  else  .^  " 

She  contrasted  this  whole-hearted  sentiment  with 
the  fitful  and  frosty  friendship  of  the  Portreeve ;  then 
swiftly  she  checked  the  thought  as  being  most  unfair. 
Wolferstan  was  scarcely  yet  through  the  fire  of  a  great 
disappointment.  Perhaps  the  very  name  of  woman 
hurt  him  still.  Time  —  ample  time  he  must  have. 
She  made  a  thousand  excuses  for  him  and  explained 
and  condoned  his  attitude.  The  bigger  the  man  and 
the  deeper  his  spirit,  the  longer  he  might  be  expected 
to  suffer.  Summer  and  ripe  autumn  must  doubtless 
turn  him  again  to  gentler  ways  and  gentler  thoughts. 
The  idea  comforted  her,  and  this  augmented  hope  of 
one  man  made  her  kind  to  the  other.  She  valued 
Slanning's  stout  affection  as  an  advertisement,  and 
knew  that  he  felt  passion  for  her  as  genuine  as  his  heart 
could  hold.  She  liked  him  the  better  for  these  peri- 
odic avowals.  He  had  been  faithful  for  three  years. 
She  took  the  flowers  from  her  dress  and  handed  them 
to  him. 

"  For  me  !  "  he  gasped. 

"  Payment  for  my  luncheon.  Don't  kiss  them  ! 
That's  silly.  They  mean  nothing.  They  are  dead 
alreadv." 

"  They'll  never  die  —  never.  The  only  flowers  in 
the  world." 


176  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  The  spring  is  making  you  quite  poetical.  Mother 
will  fall  in  love  with  you  if  you  talk  that  nonsense  to 
her.     Come  ;   I'm  rested." 

They  went  forward  by  zigzag  ways,  reached  the 
woods  that  crowned  the  hill,  and  disappeared  from  the 
watcher  below.  She  had  seen  them  stop  awhile  and 
then  proceed.  She  did  not  recognise  them,  but  pictured 
lovers.  They  vanished  presently  and  still  her  dark 
eyes  scanned  the  hill.  South  Down  was  an  ever-present 
picture  for  her.  Nature  worked  thereon  in  mighty 
moods  with  air  and  water,  frost,  fire  and  the  ever-chang- 
ing fabric  of  living  things. 

Ilet  loved  this  spectacle:  in  sunlight  or  rain,  before 
davv^n,  at  eventide,  or  under  the  moon,  she  loved  it. 
The  Moor  still  attracted  her  and  was  her  friend ;  but 
this  hill  became  a  personal  thing  and  part  of  her  life. 
Now  daily  she  marked  the  pageant  of  spring  unfold ; 
yet  she  leapt  forward  in  spirit  to  the  end  of  another  year 
and  wondered  whether  her  baby  or  the  early  flakes  of 
December's  snow  would  first  arrive  at  the  cottage  by 
Oke. 


CHAPTER   III 


THE     DINNER    HOUR 


THE  viaduct  of  Meldon  was  being  painted,  and 
men,  looking  no  larger  than  spiders,  hung  from 
ropes  about  it.  Mr.  Abner  Barkell  took  a  very 
active  interest  in  these  operations  and  buzzed  hither 
and  thither.  The  painters  often  wished  him  away, 
but  Abner  made  up  for  any  little  annoyance  which  he 
caused  in  working  hours  by  being  very  serviceable 
when  the  time  came  for  dinner  and  rest.  Then,  from 
his  adjacent  cottage,  hot  water  might  be  procured  and 
his  stock  of  utensils  was  also  at  the  service  of  the  little 
army  of  operatives  during  their  stay. 

A  dozen  men  were  sitting  at  dinner  on  a  hot  June 
day  under  the  shadow  of  trees  near  the  viaduct,  and 
Mr.  Barkell  surveyed  them  with  an  amiable  yet  regret- 
ful expression. 

"  1  shall  miss  you,  souls  ;  I  shall  miss  you  something 
cruel  when  you'm  all  gone  an'  the  bridge  be  left  to  my 
care  once  more." 

"  You  look  after  it  sharp,  gaffer,"  said  a  young 
painter  called  Tom  Ball.  "  Else  belike  'twill  get  up 
on  its  hind  legs  an'  run  away." 

The  fiction  of  Mr.  Barkell's  great  responsibility  was 
understood. 

"  Ban't  feared  of  that.  Tommy,"  he  answered.  "  I'd 
sooner  look  after  Meldon  Viaduct  than  you  any  day. 
'Tis  straighter  an'  stouter,  an'  will  wear  better  than  you 
ever   will.     'Twould   be   a   poor   lookout    for   human 

N  177 


178  THE    PORTREEVE 

nature  If  you  had  so  much  thrown  'pon  your  shoulders 
as  thicky  bridge  have." 

Johnny  Ball,  Tommy's  brother  and  a  youth  of  more 
staid  spirit,  answered. 

"  That's  right.  You  talk  to  him,  Mr.  Barkell. 
'Tis  more'n  I  can  do  to  larn  him  sense,  for  all  he's  my 
brother." 

"  Know  too  much  about  you,"  said  Tommy.  "No- 
body ever  thinks  nought  of  a  brother's  opinion  — 
specially  if  they  live  in  the  same  house  an'  see  each 
other's  weaknesses." 

Richard  Barkell  approached  grumbling  from  his 
house. 

"  You  chaps  be  getting  above  a  joke,"  he  began, 
addressing  the  company  in  general.  "  Here  I  come 
for  bit  and  sup,  an'  can't  find  so  much  as  a  crust  in 
the  larder." 

"My  fault,  Dick,"  explained  his  father.  "Oliver 
Mason  here  was  hustled  from  his  house  this  morning, 
owing  to  Mrs.  Mason  being  a  thought  cranky.  An' 
he  comed  away  without  his  dinner — just  to  mark  his 
annoyance." 

"  Or  my  breakfast,"  said  the  man  Mason.  He  was 
a  thin,  unwholesome,  sandy  person,  soaked,  as  it  seemed, 
with  turpentine.  "  Yes,  I  just  rose  up  an'  went  from 
the  house  hungry  —  to  show  my  great  indignation. 
I'm  among  friends,  I  believe  —  else  I  wouldn't  say  it; 
but  man  to  man,  she's  a  terror  and  something's  got  to 
be  done  for  my  peace,  or  I  shall  burst  out." 

"  Set  the  Salvation  Army  on  her,"  suggested  Abner. 

But  Mr.  Mason  disapproved  the  idea.  He  exhibited 
the  humorous  spectacle  of  a  man  at  once  hen-pecked 
and  jealous. 

"  Not  if  I  can  prevent  it,"  he  answered.  "  That  chap 
Foster  —  *  Captain  '  Foster  he  calls  himself —  silly 
poop  !  —  I   can't  stand  his  airs  an'  graces  an'   foolish 


THE    DINNER    HOUR 


179 


clothes.  He's  a  darned  sight  too  fond  of  getting  the 
women  to  go  an'  hear  him  bleat  his  nonsense  on  Sun- 
days. An'  I've  noticed 'tis  only  the  good-looking  ones 
he'm  so  anxious  to  gather  to  the  fold.  He  come 
smirking  to  my  door  with  a  tract  only  last  night ;  an* 
I  went  out  in  a  proper  rage.      But  I  never  said  a  word 

—  knowed  him  too  well  for  that.  I  just  put  out  my 
tongue  at  him  scornful,  an'  banged  the  door  to  in  his 
face.     That's  the  way  to  treat  'em." 

"  Nothing  daunts  you  when  you'm  roused,  I  see," 
said  Dicky  ;  "  all  the  same,  perhaps  'tis  because  you 
did  that,  that  your  missis  was  sharp  with  you  this 
morning.  That's  called  cause  and  effect  in  learned 
language." 

As  he  spoke,  Richard  helped  himself  to  a  snack  of 
food  here  and  there  from  those  who  were  willing  to 
oblige  him. 

Mr.  Mason  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Come  what  will,  I'll  be  master  in  my  own  house," 
he  said. 

"A  very  proper  resolve,"  declared  old  Abner. 
" 'Tis  always  a  brave  man's  view  of  the  question  — 
when  he  ban't  there.      But  a  voice  will  change  it." 

Talk  returned  to  the  bridge,  and  Mr.  Barkell  told 
of  its  past  history  and  magnified  his  own  share  in 
the  construction.  Year  by  year  his  memory  played 
him  wilder  pranks  in  this  particular,  and  gradually  he 
credited  himself  with  higher  responsibility  and  wider 
achievements  in  connection  with  the  viaduct.  This 
fact  the  unfilial  Dicky  pointed  out. 

"  Go  on  !  Go  on  !  "  he  said.  "  Why  don't  you  tell 
'em  you  built  the  bridge  single-handed,  my  old  dear 

—  after  you'd  drawn  out  the  plans?  I'm  sure  you'll 
think  so  if  you're  spared  a  few  more  years." 

Old  Barkell  shook  his  head. 

"  To  think  'tis  my  own  flesh  an'  blood  can  tell   like 


i8o  THE    PORTREEVE 

that.  You'll  be  sorry,  Dicky,  that  you  let  your  tongue 
wag  in  that  fashion,  when  I'm  took  from  you,  an' 
there's  only  hirelings  to  mind  the  bridge." 

A  bell  sounded  presently  and  the  men  prepared  to 
return  to  work.  Then  came  Abel  Pierce  up  the  valley 
and  spoke  with  the  brothers  Tom  and  John  Ball,  who 
were  related  to  him.  Old  Ned  Ferryman  from  Sour- 
ton  was  with  him,  and  anon,  when  the  painters  had 
departed,  Ned  sat  down  to  rest  and  Pierce  delayed  a 
moment  on  his  way  to  the  quarry  and  lighted  his 
pipe. 

Old  Barkell  was  still  eating.  He  chewed  each 
mouthful  very  long  and  slowly.  With  him,  indeed,  a 
meal  was  a  laborious  business.  Ned  had  marked  the 
peculiarity  long  ago  and  now  ventured  to  comment 
upon  it. 

"  Lord  !  How  your  father  do  dawdle  over  his  good 
things,"  he  said  to  Dicky. 

Abner  heard  and  answered  :  — 

"You're  right:  I  do,  Ned.  'Tis  a  lifelong  habit, 
an'  I've  always  done  the  same  whether  'twas  eating, 
drinking,  courting,  sleeping,  or  any  other  delight  of 
life.  Once,  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  my  mother 
promised  me  a  lollipop  if  I  was  so  good  as  gold  all 
day  long.  An'  I  won  it ;  but  by  a  fatal  accident  I  let 
the  sweety  slip  down  my  throat  right  away,  an'  so 
missed  all  the  long-drawn-out  comfort  of  un.  'Twas 
a  bitter  loss  to  me,  an'  my  mother,  being  a  hard 
woman,  wouldn't  give  me  another.  So  I've  took 
darned  good  care  to  chew  my  pleasures  since  then,  an' 
make  'em  go  so  far  as  they'll  carry." 

"  'Tis  half  the  wisdom  of  life  to  know  what  to  bolt 
an'  what  to  chew,"  said  Dicky. 

"  Yes,"  answered  his  father  ;  "  an'  another  hint  I  can 
give  you  younger  men.  Think  a  lot  about  pleasure 
afore  it  comes,  an'  then  if  the  cards  go  against  you  an' 


THE    DINNER    HOUR  i8i 

it  don't  come  at  all,  still  you've  gotten  something  out 
of  it,  if 'twas  only  the  sauce  of  expecting." 

"  Expecting  ban't  no  delight  to  me,"  said  Pierce. 
" 'Tis  a  very  uneasy,  unfinished  sort  o'  state." 

"  Expecting  good,  I  mean,  not  ill.  Ban't  no  pleasure 
to  expect  death,  or  dismissal,  or  any  other  such  ugly 
mishap  ;  but  given  a  good  time  coming,  'tis  wise  to 
ponder  it  in  hope." 

Abel  nodded. 

"That's  right  enough,"  he  said.  "I  feel  that  — 
nobody  more  so  ;  for  ban't  my  wife  in  the  family  way  ? 
I  shall  be  a  father  come  next  winter.  'Tis  a  very 
gracious  state  of  mind.  Yet  us  would  be  a  thought 
happier  if  us  could  take  the  work  off  their  shoulders. 
A  strong  man  would  make  light  of  such  a  job,  no  doubt ; 
but  'tis  awful  to  think  of  women  you  care  about  suffer- 
ing it." 

"  You'm  out  there,"  answered  Mr.  Ferryman.  "  We 
talk  a  lot  about  bearing  pain  in  the  pride  of  our  strength ; 
but  we'm  not  a  patch  on  females  at  it.  True  they 
don't  make  such  a  noise  about  it  afore  it  comes  ;  but 
when  'tis  on  'em,  they  be  worth  a  score  of  us.  They 
fear  it  more  an'  bear  it  better.  They  endure  easier  an' 
die  easier  than  us.  As  for  child-bearing,  us  shouldn't 
be  in  it  with  'em." 

"  'Tis  their  passionate  love  of  little  ones  keeps  'em 
up,"  said  Abner.     "  Men  folk  haven't  got  it." 

"  But  this  man  have,"  answered  his  son,  pointing  at 
Pierce.  "  He  loves  the  childer  like  any  mother.  'Tis 
a  twist  in  his  nature.      Don't  you  —  eh  ?  " 

"I  do  —  I  dote  on  'em,"  admitted  Abel.  "Can't 
put  it  in  words  ;  but  there  it  is.  I  wish  they'd  got 
the  power  to  have  made  me  a  better  fashion  of  man." 

This  surprising  sentiment  begot  silence. 

Then  Abner  expressed  a  hope  that  Abel  might  have 
a  daughter. 


1 82  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  I  trust  it  may  be  first  a  girl  an'  then  a  boy,"  he 
said.  "  That  was  the  old,  gentlemanlike  wish,  an' 
nobody  could  better  it." 

Pierce  nodded  and  relapsed  into  his  own  thoughts 
before  this  subject.  He  gazed  at  them,  but  saw  them 
not.  His  pipe  went  out.  Then  he  relighted  it,  wished 
the  company  '  good  day '  and  went  to  his  work. 

"  A  very  coorious-natured  man,"  commented  old 
Barkell ;  and  Ferryman  shook  his  head. 

"  He've  got  what  he  wanted  without  a  doubt,  but 
how?      He  played  foul  and  so  all's  said." 

"  There's  a  rod  in  pickle  for  the  man,  I  do  believe  ; 
an'  if  we  could  look  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  we 
should  see  it  there,"  answered  Abner  with  fine  min- 
gling of  metaphor.  "The  Lord  be  waiting  His  own 
good  time  to  smite.  Often  I've  knowed  it  happen  so. 
Pierce's  prosperity  be  the  green  bay  tree.  He's  look- 
ing to  his  child  ;  but  for  my  part,  if  I  had  that  on  my 
conscience  he's  got,  I  should  brace  myself  to  a  failure, 
an'  think  I  was  mighty  well  out  of  it  if  God  spared  the 
woman." 

"  Your  God's  a  caution,  father." 

"  A  caution  He  may  be,  Richard,"  answered  Mr. 
Barkell;  "  but  He  knows  His  Almighty  business.  An' 
He  overlooks  nought.  See  how  Dodd  Wolferstan  be 
flourishing.  The  quality  smiling  on  him,  an'  work 
coming  in,  an'  every  promise  of  ending  his  days  a 
gentleman,  if  he  only  keeps  his  head  an'  don't  forget 
himself  with  so  much  prosperity." 

"  Unlucky  in  love,  lucky  in  life,"  said  Dick. 

"  Ban't  luck,"  corrected  Mr.  Perryman  ;  "  an'  you 
oughtn't  to  use  the  word.  He's  a  righteous.  God-fear- 
ing chap,  an'  be  getting  no  more  than  his  proper 
reward.  The  Portreeve's  a  lesson  to  the  rising  gen- 
eration, and  specially  to  you  —  with  your  wild  and 
damnable  opinions." 


THE    DINNER    HOUR  183 

"So  he  is,"  admitted  the  signalman.  "I've  learnt 
a  lot  from  Wolferstan.  As  good  a  man  as  ever  I  met 
with." 

"  Pity  you  can't  soak  in  a  bit  of  his  goodness  then," 

"  I'll  try,  Ned.  But  Portreeve  must  be  careful, 
you  know.  Success  fools  a  man  quicker  than  most 
things.  Most  men  can  stand  ill-fortune  better  than 
good." 

"'Cause  why.?  We  get  more  practice,"  said  old 
Barkell ;  and  he  laughed  at  his  own  joke. 

"  Haven't  Wolferstan  showed  he  can  face  all 
weathers  ? "  asked  Perryman.  "  Look  at  him  ! 
Didn't  he  come  out  of  this  jilting,  like  Daniel  out  of 
the  den  of  lions,  without  a  scratch  ?  " 

"Who  knows  that?  We  don't  show  all  the  scratches 
a  woman  can  give  us.  Maybe  his  heart  would  tell. 
An'  mark  this,  you  old  heroes ;  how  do  you  know 
'twas  bad  luck  his  losing  her  ?  Perhaps  'twas  the  best 
luck  ever  he  had." 

"  Ban't  no  arguing  with  you,"  answered  Ned. 
"  Your  ideas  will  land  you  in  very  uncomfortable 
quarters  some  day.  But  I  hope  when  you'm  older, 
you'll  be  wiser." 

"  I  hope  so  too ;   I'm  always  hoping  it." 

Mr.  Perryman  went  onward  ;  Richard  climbed  to 
the  bridge,  crossed  it  and  entered  the  signal-box  where 
he  pursued  his  life's  labours  ;  and  the  ancient  Barkell, 
having  taken  back  his  crockery  to  his  cottage,  returned 
to  the  viaduct  and  began  trudging  about  as  usual. 
Now  he  stood  and  solemnly  gazed  at  this  or  that 
pier  ;  now  he  scrambled  up  to  the  permanent  way ; 
now  he  shouted  directions  to  the  workers ;  now 
climbed  a  few  rungs  of  a  ladder;  now  was  nearly  run 
over  by  a  trolley  laden  with  paint-pots.  He  wan- 
dered ceaselessly  through  the  long  afternoon,  then 
quite    wearied    out,    vv'ith    cheering    consciousness    of 


1 84  THE    PORTREEVE 

responsible  work  well  and  truly  done,  returned  to  his 
home. 

Westerly  the  evening  light  touched  Meldon  Viaduct, 
and  it  shone,  like  golden  lace  hung  between  the 
shoulders  of  the  gorge. 


CHAPTER    IV 


A    GOOD     DAY  S  WORK 


TO  the  eyes  of  Primrose  Horn  there  lacked  not 
signs  that  Wolferstan's  regard  increased,  and  that, 
in  his  own  way,  he  began  to  find  her  more  and 
more  necessary.  For  his  great  dehberation  she  did 
not  blame  him,  because  it  seemed  very  natural  that  he 
should  decide  slowly.  A  year  in  which  to  recover  was 
nothing ;  meantime  Dodd  had  told  her  that  his  Sun- 
day dinners  at  Bowden  were  the  first  pleasure  of  his 
life ;  and  she  looked  to  it  that  they  should  continue  so 
to  be.  In  reality  his  friendship  was  mechanical  and 
of  the  surface.  His  energies  were  fully  absorbed  in 
operations  the  reverse  of  love-making.  It  was  not 
with  any  expectation  of  sharing  the  future  with  a 
woman  that  he  toiled  :  indeed,  his  ambition  had  no 
definite  goal.  It  was  rather  an  elemental  instinct,  as 
the  miser's  inherent  rule  of  conduct  is  to  stint,  the 
spendthrift's  to  squander. 

Wolferstan  enjoyed  a  part  of  Sunday  at  the  farm, 
but  his  native  energy  called  for  no  day  of  rest  in  every 
seven,  and  only  changed  its  object.  He  worked  very 
hard  on  Sunday  and  devoted  more  than  a  tithe  of  his 
working  time  to  the  doing  of  what  he  believed  to  be 
good.  A  large  portion  of  the  seventh  day  he  applied 
to  formulae,  worshipped  thrice  in  public,  read  the  les- 
sons when  asked  to  do  so,  and  taught  his  class.  His 
own  secret  devotions  did  not  alter.  He  had  made  sim- 
ple rules  with  himself  and  kept  them.     Prayer  heartened 

i8s 


1 86  THE    PORTREEVE 

him  in  his  darkest  hours  and  brought  comfort,  light, 
understanding,  when  most  he  stood  in  need  of  them. 
His  spirit  was  evangelistic.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he 
had  debated  the  calling.  But  this  idea  —  usually 
awakened  by  some  eloquent  sermon  —  arose  but  fit- 
fully. He  had  preached  to  his  boys  and  found  him- 
self not  eloquent.  He  told  himself  that  he  would  be 
more  likely  to  build  a  church  than  minister  in  one. 

It  happened  that  for  three  successive  Sundays  the 
Portreeve's  place  at  Bowden  dinner  table  was  laid  in 
vain.  Mr.  Horn,  who  worshipped  at  Bridgetstowe, 
reported  that  Wolferstan  was  in  church  ;  but  he  had 
not  spoken  v^ith  him. 

Upon  the  fourth  Sunday  the  farmer  did  not  leave 
home,  and  Primrose  and  her  mother  went  instead.  It 
was  an  impulse  with  Miss  Horn,  suddenly  taken  ;  and 
her  appearance  at  St.  Bridget's  created  a  little  mild 
interest,  for  she  seldom  came. 

Wolferstan  was  already  there  in  the  capacity  of  a 
sidesman.  Now  he  sat  down  beside  her  and  shook 
hands.     Then  they  spoke  together  in  whispers. 

"  So  glad  to  see  you.  I  was  coming  to-day.  May 
I?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  I'm  ashamed  not  to  have  written  ;  but  I've  been 
that  busy." 

"  Father'll  be  glad  to  see  you.  He's  got  some 
bothering  letters  from  those  Midland  graziers.  How 
smart  you  are  !  " 

Dodd  wore  a  black  coat  and  waistcoat  with  grey 
trousers.  His  tie  was  light  blue  and  he  had  a  red  rose 
in   his   buttonhole. 

"  Come  up  higher,  won't  you  ?  We've  got  a 
London  gentleman  preaching  to-day." 

"  Are  you  going  to  read  the  lessons .'' " 

"  No." 


A    GOOD    DAY'S    WORK  187 

"  I'm  sorry.     Hien  we  will  stop  where  we  are." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you   here  —  you  know  that." 

"  D'you  remember  your  promise  about  the  Wolfer- 
stan  monuments  .''  Really  I  came  to  see  them.  Can 
you  show  them  to  me  after  service?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  don't  mind  stopping  to  the  Sacrament." 

"  All  right,  I'll  stop.      Mother  wants  to,  I  believe." 

"That's  right.  You  say  I'm  smart  —  but  you! 
You  make  a  sensation.  Those  sweet-peas  in  your  hat 
are  like  life." 

"  Point  out  your  father's  and  mother's  monument 
to  me  —  the  one  you  put  up.  Then  I  can  look  at  it 
through  the  service." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  do  that.  The  second  lesson's  my  favourite 
chapter  in  the  whole  Bible." 

A  congregation  began  to  come  in  ;  the  bells  chimed 
musically  ;  Wolferstan  rose  and  attended  to  his  duties. 
She  watched  him  and  marked  his  courtesy  to  women. 
She  felt  a  dull  throb  in  her  breast,  for  he  treated  all 
alike  and  was  civil,  smiling,  deferential  to  them  as  to  her. 

Orlando  Slanning  appeared  with  his  mother.  He 
was  dressed  in  tweeds,  showed  no  mark  of  the  day  in 
his  attire,  and  conducted  himself  without  reverence. 
She  contrasted  the  sportsman  and  the  Vicar's  church- 
warden, to  the  great  advantage  of  the  latter.  Slanning 
tried  to  make  her  laugh  and  failed. 

Dodd  did  occupy  the  lecture  after  all,  for  the  Vicar 
—  an  aged  man  —  found  himself  in  very  bad  voice  and 
sent  a  message  to  Wolferstan  after  the  first  lesson. 
He  read  the  first  chapter  of  the  Epistle  of  James,  and 
Primrose  Horn  gave  him  her  undivided  attention. 

" '  But  let  patience  have  her  perfect  work,'  "  she 
thought.     "  Very  good  advice  for  me." 

She  yawned  through  the  service  and  received  the 
Sacrament.     Then,  after  service  had    ended    and  the 


1 88  THE    PORTREEVE 

people  were  gone,  Wolferstan  showed  Primrose  and 
her  mother  the  monuments. 

They  listened  to  him  and  followed  his  explanations 
concerning  his  family  and  the  suspected  links  between 
it  and  the  greater  folk  of  the  same  name. 

"  History  in  these  parts  is  full  of  such  descents,"  he 
said.  "  By  rights  one  labourer  in  ten  among  us  is 
entitled  to  be  called  a  yeoman,  I  believe." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"Well,  I  think,  in  all  modesty,  I'm  a  gentleman, 
Primrose  ;   I  do  indeed." 

"  Technically  as  well  as  really." 

"Yes  —  like  those  outside  who  have  'gent'  on 
their  gravestones.  A  hundred  years  ago  they'd  never 
dare  to  put  '  gentleman  '  or  *  Esquire '  on  a  tomb  if  it 
wasn't  so." 

It  really  interests  you  ^  " 
Certainly  it  does." 

"You've  pieced  together  no  more  links  ?  " 

"  Haven't  had  the  time;  but  I  confess  I'm  quicker 
to  read  my  name  in  an  old  book  than  on  a  shop-front." 

"That's  not  worthy  of  you." 

"  Maybe  not.  But  my  heart  goes  out  to  valour. 
Because  I'm  such  a  peaceful  man  myself,  I  suppose. 
The  Wolferstans  have  done  things.  There's  a  ring  to 
the  name." 

He  started.  Memory  chimed  on  his  last  word  and 
echoed  backward.  He  remembered  that  he  had  made 
exactly  the  same  remark  when,  in  the  full  glow  and 
glory  of  love,  he  showed  to  Ilet  these  cenotaphs.  Now 
his  mind  ran  upon  that  vanished  day,  and  he  fell  into 
abstraction.  His  eyes  unconsciously  turned  to  the 
pew  where  they  had  knelt  together. 

Meantime  Mrs.  Horn  spoke. 

"  We  must  go  now,  or  father  won't  know  what's 
become  of  us." 


A    GOOD    DAY'S    WORK  189 

Wolferstan  did  not  hear  and  stood  staring  at  his 
thoughts.  Then  Primrose  touched  his  arm  and  he 
came  to  himself  and  conducted  them  from  the  church. 

Outside  Orlando  Slanning  was  waiting  for  them. 
He  advanced  from  a  gloomy  stijdy  of  tombstones, 
scowled  at  Wolferstan  unseen,  then  beamed  upon  them 
both  when  they  caught  sight  of  him.  An  ostler,  from 
the  *  Royal  Oak,'  walked  the  Bowden  trap  up  and 
down  in  the  road. 

Slanning  saluted  Mrs.  Horn  with  great  courtesy; 
then  he  spoke  to  Dodd  and  said  things  for  Primrose 
to  hear. 

"  Ah,  Wolferstan !  the  whole  countryside  envied 
you  your  luck  when  you  rescued  Miss  Horn." 

"  Old  history  now,  Mr.  Slanning.  But  'twas  a 
blessing  indeed.  And  she's  none  the  worse,  thank 
God." 

"  Save  for  that  white  line  under  her  lower  lip.  You 
hadn't  noticed  it  ?" 

"  Can't  say  I  had." 

"Ah!" 

Orlando  uttered  his  ejaculation  with  unconcealed 
triumph.  What  were  a  man's  eyes  worth  that  had 
not  marked  and  mourned  that  little  livid  dent  on  a 
lovely  chin  ?  No  lover  could  have  missed  it.  His 
tone  conveyed  as  much  to  Primrose  and  she  knew  the 
thought  in  Orlando's  mind.  It  made  her  cruel  and 
she  cut  short  the  interview,  helped  her  mother  into  the 
trap  and  mounted  beside  her.  Then  Wolferstan 
leapt  up  behind  and  they  were  gone.  Slanning  cursed 
the  Portreeve  and  strode  after  his  mother ;  Dodd 
talked  to  Mrs.  Horn  about  the  sermon  they  had 
heard. 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  Primrose  to  grow  abstracted, 
and  she  remained  silent  for  some  time.  Her  thoughts 
were  with  the  accident  in  the  past,  and  she  debated 


I90  THE    PORTREEVE 

certain  questions  she  had  often  been  tempted  to  put  to 
Wolferstan.  Their  delicacy  did  not  deter  her;  but 
she  knew  that  any  reference  to  the  subject,  however 
personal,  must  necessarily  turn  Dodd's  mind  back,  not 
only  to  the  actual*  catastrophe,  but  also  to  all  that 
sprang  out  of  it.  She  could  not  speak  before  her 
mother,  and  so  left  the  matter  until  they  should  be  alone. 

Mr.  Horn  was  pleased  to  see  his  old  bailiff. 

"  Lucky,"  he  said.  "  Letters  from  they  shire  men. 
Left  'em  open  on  the  chance  you'd  come.  Terrible 
shrewd  they  be,  by  the  looks  of  it." 

"  Won't  over-reach  us,  however,"  declared  Dodd 
cheerfully;  and  Mr.  Horn  smiled  and  shook  his  head 
at  the  inevitable  Sunday  sirloin. 

While  the  others  made  a  hearty  meal,  Mrs.  Horn 
talked  to  her  husband. 

"  Sorry  you  wasn't  to  church,  father,"  she  said.  "  A 
very  good  sermon  upon  faith.  I  wish  Mr.  Slanning 
would  wear  black  of  a  Sunday.  A  coat  is  nothing,  and 
yet  —  out  of  respect  to  his  neighbours  and  his  position, 
it  should  be  done." 

She  sighed,  like  a  gentle  wind  among  winter  sedges 
at  water's  brink. 

"  Do  eat  some  more,  mother,"  cried  Primrose. 
"  You  don't  take  enough  to  keep  a  sparrow  alive." 

"  I've  done  very  well,  my  dear." 

"  I  wish  I  could  live  on  as  little,"  answered  her 
daughter.  But  her  superb  abundance  of  flesh  shouted 
against  the  aspiration. 

"  The  beautiful  pink  heather's  all  in  bud  again," 
said  Mrs.  Horn  ;  "  and  as  for  the  furze,  'tis  a  picture. 
I  never  saw  it  better." 

"  Too  much  by  many  an  acre,"  declared  the  Port- 
reeve. "  We  must  have  some  big  burning  on  North 
Dartmoor  come  next  spring.  There's  ten  square  mile 
I  should  like  to  see  properly  swaled." 


A    GOOD    DAY'S    WORK  191 

"  An'  yet  a  fool  here  an'  there  can  still  be  found 
to  hold  out  against  burning,"  replied  the  farmer. 
"Zanies!  How  be  grass  to  grow  'pon  top  of  a  foot 
of  furze  needles,  or  through  heather  a  yard  high  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  your  way,  there'd  be  no  beauty  left  on 
the  earth,  master,"  sighed  Mrs.  Horn. 

"  Beauty  !  Give  me  flitness  —  that's  the  properest 
beauty,"  he  answered.  "  Round-barrelled  beasts,  round- 
cheeked  childern,  plump  fruit  an'  potatoes.  The  earth's 
bursting  with  fatness,  like  the  promised  land  ;  an'  we 
let  half  of  it  run  to  waste." 

"There!"  laughed  Dodd.  "What  a  sermon! 
None  can  say  no  more  you're  a  silent  man  after  that, 
farmer.  If  we  want  to  hear  you  talk  henceforth,  we 
shall  know  the  text  for  you.  'Tis  in  Isaiah  some- 
where :  '  And  let  your  soul  delight  in  fatness  ! '  " 

"So  it  do,"  confessed  Mr.  Horn.  "As  I  got  to 
middle  age  and  the  flesh  crept  over  me,  I  felt  my  heart 
grow  bigger  and  my  mind  was  enlarged  by  it.  It 
made  me  kinder  and  more  generous  like.  I  pity  the 
lean  beast  and  the  lean  man.  'Tis  the  shadow  of  star- 
vation to  see  'em." 

"  What  about  mother,  then  ?  "  asked  Primrose. 

Mr.  Horn  had  finished,  and  now  he  rose  and  placed 
his  great  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  his  wife. 

"  Your  dear  shadow  of  a  mother  be  the  moon  to  my 
sun  in  a  poetic  manner  of  speaking  —  ban't  you, 
Sophy  ?  If  I  could  only  give  you  a  trifle  of  three  stun 
or  so  off  my  weight,  I'd  gladly  do  it." 

"  She's  a  skeleton  at  our  feast  of  life,"  said  Primrose. 

"  All  the  same,  us  must  live  in  hope  of  clothing 
your  bones  some  day,  mother,"  continued  Alexander 
Horn.  "  I'm  sure  your  darter  sets  you  a  good 
example." 

Mrs.  Horn  smiled  and  Primrose  exclaimed  with 
half-pretended  and  half-real  indignation. 


igz  THE   PORTREEVE 

Presently,  when  Wolferstan  had  read  the  farmer's 
letter  and  pronounced  it  politic,  he  went  into  the  gar- 
den with  Miss  Horn.  To  return  to  Bridgetstowe  in 
time  for  his  class,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  start 
almost  immediately.  Therefore  she  offered  to  walk 
part  of  the  way  with  him.  He  thanked  her  and  they 
set  out  together.  Then  she  opened  the  matter  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  I've  often  wondered  what  happened  during  those 
dreadful  moments  when  I  was  senseless  and  you 
thought  I  was  dead.  At  the  time  of  my  accident  I 
mean.  What  ever  did  I  do  ?  Did  I  speak  —  or 
anything  ?  " 

Nobody  knew  better  than  she  the  course  of  events. 
She  felt  his  hand  against  her  bosom  still. 

"  There's  nothing  to  tell  about  that,"  he  answered. 
"It  seemed  an  age  till  you  showed  me  you  weren't 
dead.  Your  chin  bled  so  badly.  I  was  jolly  thankful 
when  at  last  you  spoke." 

"  I  dU  speak  !  Do  you  know  I  always  had  a  horrid 
sort  of  idea  I  said  something — like  the  memory  of  a 
bad  dream  when  we  wake  miserable,  but  can't  remem- 
ber why.  What  did  I  say  ?  But  perhaps  you've 
forgotten." 

"  A  sort  of  instinct  of  self-preservation,"  replied 
Wolferstan  vaguely.    "  You  couldn't  breathe  properly." 

"  Did  I  say  so  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  you  said  you  couldn't  breathe,  and  that  all 
was  dark.  I  remember  when  you  cried  out  that  all 
was  dark,  I  felt  a  good  deal  alarmed,  because  your  eyes 
were  wide  open  when  you  said  it." 

"  I  behaved  like  a  fool.  You'll  never  respect  me 
again,  I  should  think." 

"  How  can  you  say  that !  " 

She  had  brought  the  scene  of  the  accident  and  his 
own    operations    very  vividly  before    his   mind.     He 


A    GOOD    DAY'S    WORK  193 

remembered  her  impotence  and  her  beauty.  He  recol- 
lected how  she  wept  and  clung  to  him  on  recovering 
consciousness.  Her  rare  weakness  then  impressed  him 
by  contrast  with  her  usual  strength. 

The  Portreeve  drew  in  his  breath  and  made  a  little 
sound  as  though  about  to  speak.  Then,  with  a  side 
glance,  she  surprised  the  sure  thought  on  his  face  and 
in  his  eyes.  He  said  no  more,  because  he  had  passed 
on  mentally  to  the  sequel  and  his  own  tribulations. 
Yet  she  was  interested  to  observe  that  memory  kept 
him  not  long  silent.  He  quickly  recovered  himself  and 
spoke  of  other  subjects  in  a  mood  placid  and  amiable. 

"  Don't  you  ever  get  tired  of  those  noisy  boys  ?  " 
she  asked  him  presently,  when  he  mentioned  his  class 
of  Sunday  scholars. 

"  Never ;  they  rest  me  rather.  I  like  them  and 
they  like  me." 

"  I  loved  being  in  church  to-day,"  she  suddenly 
announced. 

"  Not  better  than  I  liked  seeing  you  there." 

"  And  I  liked  hearing  you  read.  I  can  understand 
that  lesson  pleasing  you.     You  build  your  life  upon  it." 

He  showed  considerable  gratification.  He  also  re- 
vealed astonishment,  and  she  was  quick  to  mark  it, 
though  unconsciously  exhibited. 

"  You're  surprised  that  I  can  be  so  serious-minded  ? 
You  don't  know  me  a  bit  really,  though  I  suppose  you 
think  you  do." 

"  Indeed  not.  I'm  not  so  vain  as  to  think  anything 
of  the  kind.  I  only  know  what  you  let  me  know, 
Primrose.     You  are  much  cleverer  than   I   am." 

"  How  absurd  !  What  am  I  ?  A  lonely,  rather 
stupid  woman." 

"  I  wish  there  were  more  like  you,"  he  said.  It 
was  not  a  lover's  sentiment,  yet  she  appreciated  the 
compliment. 


194  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  There  are  very  few  I  care  to  please,"  she  answered. 
"Yet  I  want  to  please  you  —  always." 

He  felt  a  little  sentimental  as  he  looked  into  her 
eyes,  lifted  humbly  to  his.  As  they  parted  he  shook 
her  small  hand  with  greater  warmth  than  usual,  and  for 
a  moment  held  it  in  his  own.  Then  he  left  her  rather 
abruptly,  and  she  was  subtly  glad  that  he  did  not  lift 
his  hat.  The  unusual  absence  of  this  formality  seemed 
to  bring  him  to  a  more  familiar  closeness. 

Hope  soared  up  in  her  heart,  and  critically  Miss 
Horn  analysed  the  doings  of  the  day,  that  she  might 
judge  the  reason  and  measure  the  extent  of  this  ad- 
vance. There  had  come  a  hesitation  into  his  voice,  an 
abstraction  of  his  manner,  an  unsteadiness  to  his  eye. 
These  things  did  not  belong  to  his  customary  de- 
meanour. She  guessed  her  visit  to  St.  Bridget's  had 
pleased  him  ;  and  she  planned  the  future  accordingly. 

As  for  Wolferstan,  the  outward  signs  that  she  had 
marked  upon  him  did  not  lack  for  inner  causes.  He 
knew  that  she  was  a  beautiful  and  pleasant  woman. 
He  admired  her  qualities,  believed  that  she  was  the 
very  soul  of  fearless  honesty,  and  knew  that  she  loved 
him.  She  would  be  rich  some  day  and  her  father 
much  affected  him.  He  had  but  to  put  out  his  hand 
and  achieve  the  future  mastership  of  Bowden  if  he 
pleased.  But  the  very  simplicity  of  the  task  turned 
him  from  it.  He  had  wit  to  see  that  the  temporal 
aspect  of  the  case,  while  it  was  largely  responsible  for 
his  emotions,  yet  did  not  really  attract  him.  That  the 
thought  of  Bowden  should  arise  at  all  indicated  the 
shadowy  character  of  his  own  fancied  affection  for  Prim- 
rose. He  had  never  remembered  that  Ilet  was  penni- 
less ;  why  should  he  now  never  forget  that  this  girl 
was  rich  ?  Yet  he  told  himself  that  he  felt  a  very  real 
and  tender  friendship  for  Miss  Horn. 

So,  by  simple  force  of  will,  we  ram  home  a  falsehood 


A    GOOD    DAY'S    WORK 


'95 


against  our  own  real  knowledge,  and  make  believe  against 
belief — as  children  do.  It  is  a  power  that  survives 
infancy;  for  all  men,  by  constant  practice,  daily  reduce 
reason  to  implicit  acceptation  of  the  thing  that  is  not. 
They  diverge  in  one  direction,  or  in  another,  as  the 
mind  inclines  and  the  lust  tempts ;  they  harmonise 
their  deviations  with  conscience  according  to  their  skill 
in  self-deception  ;  and  justify  them  in  the  measure  of 
their  self-indulgence.  None  is  wholly  rational  with 
himself,  much  less  with  the  world. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    MEETING    OF    THREE 

NOW  Ilet  advanced  into  motherhood  without  fret 
or  care,  and  no  wild-flower  passed  more  patiently, 
perfectly  from  bloom  to  bearing,  than  did  she. 
The  advice  of  Aunt  Henny  and  other  matrons  was  for 
the  most  part  not  taken,  and  her  husband  wasted  his 
money  in  little  delicacies  unfamiliar  and  undesired. 
His  wife's  highest  happiness  was  to  be  alone,  and  she 
read  in  the  book  of  the  Moor  through  many  summer 
hours  and  found  it  content  her.  Reflection  at  this 
time  was  not  always  happy,  but  tended  to  hopefulness. 
Only  one  shadow  clouded  thought,  when  her  mind  fell 
upon  the  Portreeve.  Him  she  had  not  met  again  since 
the  remote  day  at  Bowden  Farm  when,  in  anger,  they 
parted  ;  but  now  chance  flung  them  together.  Their 
meeting,  however,  was  attended  by  a  third  person. 

It  happened  that  Ilet  Pierce,  on  a  day  in  late  August, 
had  leisure  to  pursue  her  own  path  and  so  sought  the 
Moor,  happy  in  the  knowledge  that  she  might  spend 
many  hours  there. 

Slowly  and  steadily  she  pressed  upward,  and  a  whim 
took  her  to  the  very  crown  of  Devon.  On  the  squat 
rock  mass  of  High  Willhayes  she  stood  poised  with  a 
fluttering  robe  —  the  woman  by  many  feet  nearest  the 
sky  in  all  the  West  country.  When  her  eyes  had 
drunk  the  world  outspread,  she  descended  a  little  way, 
found  a  nook  in  the  scattered  stones,  and  settled  there 
with  some  work  that  she  had  brought  in  a  basket. 

196 


THE    MEETING    OF   THREE  197 

As  a  rare  smile  on  a  stern  face,  the  glory  of  the  ling 
touched  Dartmoor  and  its  expanses  assumed  an  expres- 
sion very  gentle  through  the  passage  of  autumn  days. 
Yet,  despite  the  transitory  cheerfulness  of  earth  and 
the  lovely  life  of  the  desert  around  her,  an  inevitable 
message  of  awe  lurked  beneath,  and  its  spirit  was  re- 
flected in  the  mind  of  the  woman  with  child.  Ilet 
never  failed  to  find  this  emotion  here.  It  haunted  the 
granite  and  was  woven  in  the  texture  of  the  waste. 
Where  others  in  her  case  prayed  to  the  later  gods,  she 
reposed  within  the  pagan  atmosphere  of  this  loneliness 
and  found  it  hearten  and  uplift. 

The  colour  of  the  heather  made  darkness  of  morass 
and  fen  deeper  by  contrast,  and  the  brightness  thereof 
was  a  foil  that  enriched  the  chocolate-coloured  earth, 
the  seeding  rushes,  the  glimmering  bog  and  the  li- 
chened  stone.  A  far-flung  foam  of  flowers  fledged  and 
feathered  the  great  rocks  ;  it  climbed  the  boulders, 
sparkled  from  their  clefts  and  cavities,  and  softened 
their  outlines  ;  it  irradiated  whole  hillsides  ;  illumined 
the  ridges  ;  shone  against  the  darkness  of  cloud-shad- 
ows and,  when  itself  enveloped  by  them,  lent  an 
inner  tenderness  of  light  to  their  passing  purple. 
With  scattered  tufts,  like  jewels,  it  adorned  the  marsh- 
edge  and  black  peat  cutting;  in  league  on  league,  now 
massed,  now  scattered,  it  gladdened  the  great  wastes, 
uttered  the  highest  colour  song  that  Dartmoor  knows, 
and  made  the  hour  a  joy. 

Ilet  watched  the  warmth  of  westering  sunshine 
slowly  mellow  the  quality  of  the  light  and  waken  gentle 
roseate  fires  upon  the  darkness  of  the  earth  and  in  the 
brightness  of  the  flowers  that  spread  over  it.  Then 
suddenly  there  appeared  before  her  Dodd  Wolferstan 
and  Primrose  Horn.  They  had  approached  unseen 
and  unheard ;  and  now  they  came  round  a  pile  of 
rocks  and  stood  within  two  yards  of  her.     Colour  leapt 


198  THE    PORTREEVE 

to  the  face  of  the  Portreeve,  and  Ilet  also,  glowing 
hotly,  rose  to  her  feet.  Only  one  of  the  party  pre- 
served self-possession  and  acted  with  common  sense. 
There  was  no  escape  from  the  meeting  and  Primrose 
perceived  it.  Therefore  she  went  forward  with  a  smile, 
held  out  her  hand  and  bade  the  other  woman  friendly 
greeting. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Pierce  !  What  a  lonely  place  you've 
climbed  to  !  "  said  she.  "  But,  like  us,  you're  a  lover 
of  the  Moor.     There's  no  such  peace  in   the  valleys." 

As  she  spoke,  Wolferstan  regained  presence  of  mind, 
and  Ilet  swiftly  did  the  like. 

"  I  often  come  here,"  she  said.  "  'Tis  a  great  place 
to  think  quietly." 

"  You're  wise,  but  you  must  be  careful  of  yourself. 
Mr.  Wolferstan  and  I  have  been  to  Harter  Farm 
about  a  pony.  And  it's  a  failure  after  all.  Do  you 
know  anybody  with  a  good  one  ?  " 

Ilet  shook  her  head.  The  man  preserved  silence. 
He  was  impressed  by  his  companion's  tact.  She  still 
did  the  talking,  ran  on  brightly  and  showed  tenderness 
and  consideration  for  the  other  woman,  which  Dodd 
held  to  be  very  proper.  Now  the  wife  turned  and 
spoke  to  Wolferstan. 

" 'Twas  a  great  joy  to  us  to  hear  tell  of  your  good 
fortune,"  she  said.  "  My  husband  and  me  both  felt 
very  glad  about  it." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you.  People  are  a  deal  too 
kind  to  me." 

"You  deserve  all  the  luck  you  get  —  an'  more." 

He  allowed  himself  to  look  at  her  now.  The  re- 
membered music  of  her  voice  affected  him  ;  he  glanced 
sidelong  for  the  dimple  on  her  cheek  he  had  kissed  so 
often.  It  was  there,  and  her  teeth  just  made  a  flash  of 
light  between  her  lips  as  they  were  wont  to  do.  Her 
face  was  bright  though  thinner.     She  looked  pleasantly 


THE    MEETING    OF   THREE 


199 


upon  him,  but  did  not  smile  in  answer  to  the  smiles  of 
Miss  Horn. 

He  was  glad  to  go  quickly.  She  shook  hands 
with  him  when  he  left  her,  and  he  found  his  old  re- 
sentment absolutely  dead.  He  felt  very  kindly  to 
her,  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  was  stirred  by 
the  old  lovely  colour,  ripe  and  rich  as  a  mountain 
stream  in   flood. 

Primrose  remained  behind  him  a  moment  and  he 
went  out  of  earshot  and  lagged  for  her.  Soon  she 
regained  his  side,  and  then  they  proceeded  without 
speech  for  a  considerable  distance. 

Presently  he  burst  out  into  praise. 

"What  a  wonder  you  are  —  how  amazing  clever! 
Don't  think  I  didn't  mark  it." 

"  Nonsense  !  I  said  nothing  that  any  other  woman 
would  not  have  said." 

"  Much  more.  First  there  was  the  way  you  kept 
your  nerve  while  she  and  I  were  that  flustered.  Then 
your  skill  of  speech  and  swift  gentleness.  'Twas  done 
to  give  us  time.  She  was  quick  to  appreciate  it,  I'll 
swear." 

"  Don't  talk  about  it.  There  are  things  one  ought 
to  mark  inwardly  and  then  pass  without  words.     This 


is  one." 


"  Women  are  so  queer.  Who  would  think  now 
that  once  she  and  I  —  ?  " 

"  Leave  it.     No  need  to  say  these  things  to  me." 

"  She's  aged  a  thought  in  my  eyes." 

"  She's  had  plenty  to  age  her." 

"  And  you  could  be  so  gentle  and  kind." 

"Only  pity  —  since  you  will  go  on  about  it," 
answered  Primrose  after  a  pause.  She  had  weighed  the 
word. 

"  Pity  ?  There's  nought  to  pity.  It's  the  right 
and  proper  thing." 


200  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  How  dense  even  you  can  be,"  she  answered  impa- 
tiently. "  'Tisn't  for  that  I  pity  her.  I  pity  her  in 
the  fatherhood  of  her  child,  not  the  motherhood." 

"  Abel  Pierce  ?  " 

"Think  of  it,  and  think  of  what  might  have  been. 
A  day-labourer's  wife  —  joined  to  a  lump  of  earth. 
Even  the  clods  under  our  feet  are  better  than  such  a 
man,  for  they  have  some  light  and  loveliness  hid  in 
them  :  they  blossom  in  their  seasons.  But  think  of 
being  linked  for  life  to  a  thing  that  never  blossoms 
—  that  puts  out  no  shadow  of  a  flower  from  year's  end 
to  year's  end — whose  frozen  soul  knows  no  spring  or 
summer  —  only  winter  always." 

"  Ignorance  is  winter,  I  suppose.  'Tis  like  your 
mother  to  hear  you  talk  so  poetical,"  he  said. 

"  1  feel  mother  in  me  sometimes  when  I  am 
strongly  moved,"  she  answered.  "  Now,  at  least,  you'll 
understand  why  I  pity  Ilet  Pierce.  She  has  a  yokel; 
she  might  have  had  —  you." 

Her  apparent  immense  and  simple  faith  in  him  began 
to  wear  down  the  Portreeve's  indifference.  He  was  a 
warm-hearted  man  and  could  not  fail  to  feel  touched 
by  declarations  so  fervid  and  ingenuous.  He  told 
himself  that  her  love  blinded  her  ;  that  she  failed  to 
realise  the  frank  nature  of  the  things  she  said.  He 
ascribed  them  to  her  straightforward  spirit  and  felt 
such  a  fearless  creature  was  worthy  of  great  admiration. 
He  set  himself  to  take  a  higher  and  more  serious  view 
of  her  rare  virtues.  The  truth  of  her  he  had  never  in 
his  life  glimpsed  or  guessed. 

Her  skill  in  the  attack  was  supreme.  Now 
maiden  modesty  and  reserve  met  the  requirement  of 
the  moment ;  now  utterances  almost  childish  in 
their  simplicity  fell  upon  his  ear.  When  marriage 
was  the  matter.  Primrose  often  argued  humorously 
against  it;  yet  now,  he  had   noted    her   conventional 


THE    MEETING   OF   THREE  20! 

sentiment  with  regard  to  maternity  and  considered  it 
highly  correct. 

Anon  they  parted,  but  not  before  Wolferstan  had 
travelled  a  perceptible  stage  along  the  road  she  had 
opened  for  him.  His  admiration  of  the  woman's 
qualities  was  genuine  ;  yet  it  had  no  kinship  with  love. 
He  knew  that,  since  love  he  also  had  known.  But  he 
shut  his  eyes  to  the  fact  and  began  to  speculate  on  his 
future  —  combined  with  the  future  of  Bowden.  And 
yet  it  was  the  old  Ilet,  of  deep,  slow  voice  and  single- 
minded,  narrow  intensities,  that  filled  his  thoughts 
when  that  day  was  done.  Her  darkness  came  sharper 
against  the  gloom  of  night  than  the  brightness  of  Prim- 
rose ;  his  old  lover,  and  not  the  huntress,  went  shadowy 
with  him  into  the  portals  of  sleep. 

As  for  Ilet,  she  sat  long  after  they  had  left  her  and 
with  wet  eyes  watched  the  wonder  of  the  sunset. 

For  her  the  voice  of  Primrose  had  meant  less  than 
the  wind  in  the  rushes  ;  but  his  few  words  were  pre- 
cious to  her.  The  physical  sound  of  his  voice  woke 
no  memory  and  the  sight  of  him  stung  to  no  regret, 
for  she  had  the  faculty  of  shutting  out  the  past  and 
obliterating  from  the  book  of  her  mind  its  inner  his- 
tory of  sufferings,  fevers  and  tears.  She  lived  stead- 
fastly in  the  present  and  it  required  the  incentive  of 
her  state  even  to  make  her  look  forward.  But  the 
thing  spoken  by  Dodd  tended  to  comfort  her  and  she 
did  not  cry  with  sorrow.  It  was  clear  that  he  had 
returned  to  happiness  and  desired  her  also  to  be  happy. 
That  she  should  have  met  him  with  Primrose  Horn 
also  satisfied  her  conscience.  It  was  surely  significant 
of  her  own  right  action  in  the  past.  It  helped  to 
diminish  her  remaining  concern  and  to  affirm  her  in 
sure  belief  that,  apart  from  details,  she  had  acted  wisely 
to  give  him  up. 

Ilet  told  her  husband  everything  that  night,  and  he 


202  THE   PORTREEVE 

too  gathered  satisfaction  from  the  incident.  Not 
indeed  that  he  asked  for  any  comfort.  The  past  had 
long  ceased  to  hold  a  pang  for  him.  More  completely 
than  his  wife  he  ignored  it :  and  he  lived  now  for  the 
advent  of  his  child  and  the  good  of  its  mother.  Al- 
ready he  dreamed  of  feeling  small  hands  in  his  beard, 
and  pictured  his  own  baby's  Httle  eyes  blinking  into 
his. 

Miss  Horn  was  wrong  enough  in  her  estimate  of 
Pierce,  and  knew  it ;  but  even  as  a  generalisation  she 
had  uttered  a  falsehood,  since  there  is  no  human 
spirit  in  which  winter  always  reigns.  The  flowers  may 
be  feeble  or  foul,  but  they  are  inevitably  put  forth  ; 
the  fruit  may  prove  ineffectual  or  poisonous,  but  it 
will  surely  be  ripened.  Seedtime  and  harvest  are  a 
part  of  conscious  existence  ;  and  not  the  humblest  who 
crawled  through  colourless  days  and  went,  already 
forgotten,  down  to  his  grave,  but  left  the  world  other 
than  he  found  it.  The  impress  is  beyond  reach  of 
discovery,  not  of  proof. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    CHRISTENING    PARTY 

NEAR  the  end  of  that  year  Ilet's  child  was  born, 
and  another  Httle  Devon  maid  uttered  her  first 
wail  by  the  ancient  waters  of  Oke.  Henny, 
critical  in  such  matters,  applauded  all  concerned,  and 
her  son  became  intoxicated  with  successful  fatherhood. 
He  lived  for  the  child,  almost  as  much  as  Ilet  did; 
and  his  daughter  was  never  absent  from  his  mind. 
Great  happiness  reigned  by  the  river,  and  pleasant 
arguments  rose  between  mother  and  grandmother  as 
to  the  name  that  their  treasure  should  bear.  But  this 
matter  Abel  swiftly  settled  for  them. 

"  'Twill  be  called  after  the  both  of  'e,"  he  said. 

"*  Henny  Ilet'  !  That  won't  never  do,"  declared 
the  elder  Mrs.  Pierce.  "  'Tis  far  too  queer.  *  Give  a 
dog  a  bad  name  and  hang  him,'  as  the  saying  is." 

"  They'm  beautiful  names  both,"  he  answered,  "an' 
^  Henny  Ilet'  'twill  be." 

Thus  indeed  the  child  was  baptised  in  fulness  of 
time,  and  after  the  ceremony  a  little  party  met  at  the 
baby's  home  to  celebrate  the  event. 

The  Barkells  attended,  and  there  came  also  Abel's 
cousins,  John  and  Thomas  Ball,  with  Ned  Perryman 
and  his  grand-daughter  Jane. 

A  generous  meal  had  been  provided  and,  in  the 
midst,  was  a  cake.  Across  its  surface,  with  white  sugar, 
a  baker  artist  had  written  the  words,  ^  Henny  Ilet  — 
her  christening  cake.^ 

203 


204  THE   PORTREEVE 

This  notable  gift  came  from  Mr.  Abner  Barkell  and 
gave  surprise  and  pleasure  to  the  parents.  Everybody 
managed  somehow  to  squeeze  into  the  parlour  of  Fish- 
combe  cottage  and  all  ate  heartily.  Mrs.  Pierce  did 
the  waiting  and  Jane  Ferryman  assisted  her.  Ilet  sat 
in  the  place  of  honour  with  her  baby  in  its  cradle  close 
at  hand.  The  room  lacked  air  and  was  very  hot  and 
stuffy  after  the  fashion  of  the  folk.  A  heavy  odour 
of  red  herrings  impregnated  the  atmosphere ;  the 
smell  of  pomatum  from  Johnny  Ball's  head  was  also 
perceptible ;  and  moisture  rose  from  steaming  cups  of 
tea.  In  the  intervals  between  speech,  came  sound  of 
hard  breathing  and  steady  munching.  As  the  men 
finished,  they  loaded  and  lighted  their  pipes.  Abel 
rose  every  few  minutes  to  peep  at  his  child,  where 
she  slept  soundly  after  the  exertions  of  the  religious 
rite. 

The  time  came  for  cutting  the  cake  and  Mr.  Bar- 
kell proposed  that  the  mother  should  perform  that  task. 

"  Christenings  ban't  what  they  were,"  he  said. 
"  'Tis  passed  off  as  lightly  as  teething  now-a-days  ;  but 
when  me  an'  Ned  here  were  lads,  'twas  remembered 
that  a  soul  was  saved  at  the  church-vamp  every  time, 
and  the  matter  treated  accordingly." 

"  A  lot  of  things  be  left  out  too,  that  were  better  to 
be  done,"  said  Ferryman.  "  'Tis  woman's  work  to 
bear  them  in  mind.  That's  why  they'm  forgot,  no 
doubt." 

"  You  ban't  over  civil,"  declared  Ilet.  "  Best  to  tell 
us,  however,  and  brisk  our  memories.  Trust  us  not 
to  forget  aught  that's  for  our  little  one's  good." 

"  'Tis  too  late  for  some  precepts,"  answered  Ned. 
"  For  instance,  'tis  well  known  that  there's  no  luck 
in  telling  a  child's  name  afore  it  comes  to  the  font. 
When  parson  axes  for  its  name,  then  is  the  time  the 
nation  should  know  it,  and  not  a  day  sooner.     Yet 


THE   CHRISTENING    PARTY  205 

everybody  have  been  told  what  your  ll'l  maid  was 
to  be  called." 

Pierce  snorted,  but  there  was  concern  as  well  as  con- 
tempt in  the  sound. 

"  Moonshine  !  "  he  said  ;  and  Dicky,  seeing  his  un- 
easiness, fostered  it  by  pretending  to  side  with  Perry- 
man. 

"  You  say  '  moonshine,'  Abel,  but  moonshine's 
only  sunshine  once  removed,  mind;  an'  Ned's  non- 
sense may  be  only  sense  turned  inside  out." 

"  Surely  nobody  believes  all  that  now  ? "  asked 
Tommy  Ball. 

"  Yes,  they  do,"  answered  Ned.  "  Those  that  have 
proved  the  truth  of  it  believe  it.  Didn't  Saul  Heath- 
man's  mother  tell  his  name  to  my  wife  two  days  afore 
the  infant  was  christened,  and  wasn't  Saul  Heathman 
hung  in  '91  for  killing  his  mate  on  the  railway  ?  " 

"Another  thing,"  cried  Abner,  "you  mind  an'  not 
cut  the  child's  nails,  or  her  hair,  Ilet,  till  she'm  up 
home  a  year  old.  If  her  nails  call  for  shortening,  you 
must  bite  'em  with  your  teeth." 

"  Who  don't  know  that  ?  "  asked  Henny.  "  Teach 
your  gran'mother  !  " 

But  old  Barkell  had  much  else  to  say. 

"  An'  if  there's  a  kitten  in  the  house,  it  must  be 
drownded  or  got  rids  of,"  he  continued.  "  'Tis  awful 
bad  luck  to  have  a  chet  an'  a  new-born  child  brought 
up  together." 

"In  other  points  I'm  very  well  satisfied  with  the 
day's  work,  however,"  continued  Perryman.  "  Look 
how  the  infant  yowled  an'  roared  when  the  water 
touched  her.  You  could  'most  see  the  sin  of  Adam 
going  forth  neck  an'  crop.  That's  all  to  the  good. 
I  never  heard  a  tender  babe  make  more  row." 

Abner  nodded. 

"  Yes ;  an'  there  was  only  her  done.     I  hate  to  see 


2o6  THE   PORTREEVE 

a  string  of  'em  crossed  wl'  the  same  water.  Each  child 
did  ought  to  have  a  separate  drop,  an'  'tis  laziness  to 
do  otherwise." 

"  Why  do  it  matter  ?  "  asked  Johnny  Ball,  who  was 
a  serious-minded  youth.  "  I  don't  say  it  don't  mat- 
ter," he  added  hastily,  "for  I'm  a  great  man  for  the 
mysteries.     I  only  ax  why  ?  " 

"  That  reminds  me,"  replied  Mr.  Ferryman,  with- 
out answering  the  young  painter's  question.  "  I'm 
sorry  for  your  own  sake,  John  Ball,  that  you've  took 
over  the  duties  and  gravities  of  godfather.  Ban't  a 
very  witty  thing  for  a  bachelor  to  do." 

"Why  not  then?"  asked  the  young  man  rather 
warmly.  "  Ban't  I  equal  to  it  ?  Don't  I  believe  it 
all  —  an'  more  ?  " 

"  There's  nought  too  hard  for  you  to  believe,  is 
there,  John  ^  "  asked  the  signalman  placidly. 

"  Nought,"  answered  Johnny.  "  There's  nobody  to 
Okehampton  with  a  greater  gift  of  believing." 

"  'Tisn't  that ;  I'm  only  sorry  for  you.  Them  as 
come  to  be  godfathers,  very  often  come  to  nothing 
else.  '  First  to  fount,  last  to  altar,'  is  a  very  ancient 
saying,  an'  'tis  not  often  out." 

"  Then  what  about  your  own  grand-daughter,  as 
stands  for  a  godmother  ?  "  asked  Tommy  Ball. 

"  I  warned  her,"  answered  Ferryman ;  "  but  she'm 
like  Dicky  here,  brought  up  on  the  board  school  — 
don't  know  an'  won't  larn." 

The  increasing  smoke  reached  the  baby's  nostrils 
and   Henny  Ilet  coughed  and  cried. 

Her  mother  caught  her  up  and  prepared  to  take  her 
away. 

"  Let's  have  a  look,"  said  Abner.  "  Can't  say  as 
I've  properly  seed  the  cheel  yet." 

His  wrinkled  neck  bent  over  the  baby  and  his  aged 
eyes  beamed  upon  it. 


THE   CHRISTENING   PARTY  207 


C( 


A  proper  li'l  fairy.  But  so  much  depends  on  the 
noses  of  'em.  You  may  'most  say  a  babby's  born 
without  a  nose.  The  organ  comes  forward  —  for  good 
or  ill  —  in  after  life." 

"  Don't  that  tempt  you,  Dicky  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Pierce 
as  the  younger  Barkell  gazed  upon  her  grandchild. 
"  Don't  the  sight  of  that  bud  make  you  want  a  wife 
an'  such  another  ?  " 

Richard  held  his  little  finger  to  the  heroine  of  the 
hour,  and  her  triangular  mouth  closed  upon  it.  Then 
she  perceived  her  mistake  and  wept.  The  mother  and 
child  disappeared ;  the  smoke  increased  in  density. 

"  No,"  said  Dicky.  "  No,  ma'am  ;  there's  nothing 
of  the  father  in  me.  Not  but  what  I  believe  in  babbies 
with  all  my  heart.  I'd  trust  'em  further  than  their 
parents  'most  always,  and  I'd  back  'em  to  run  the 
show,  when  we  go  under,  a  lot  better  than  we  have. 
But  as  to  breeding  'em  and  bringing  'em  up  to  be 
worth  their  salt,  'tis  skilled  labour  —  or  should  be. 
You  wants  a  particular  build  of  mind  to  be  a  parent, 
and  I've  not  got  it." 

"  'Tis  lucky  your  father  didn't  think  the  same.  I 
suppose  you're  not  sorry  you're  born  yourself?  "  asked 
Tommy  Ball. 

"  Not  at  all.  To  be  alive  is  the  first  step  certainly. 
But  'tis  a  very  hoodwinking  business,  the  getting  of 
childer.  Us  don't  have  'em  because  we  love  'em,  but 
because  we  love  their  mothers.  'Tis  all  a  trick  of 
nature." 

"  Nature  ban't  going  to  catch  you  then  ?  "  asked 
Jane  Ferryman. 

"  No,  Jane  —  she  don't  want  to.  The  pinch  of  salt 
was  left  out  when  I  was  stirring.  I  know  well  that 
human  creatures  bear  us  bachelor-men  a  grudge ;  yet 
we've  our  uses." 

They'm   a  regular  ordained  order  of  beings,  no 


(I 


2o8  THE    PORTREEVE 

doubt,"  admitted  Mrs.  Pierce  —  "  same  as  spinsters. 
It  takes  all  sorts  to  make  a  world." 

She  brought  out  a  bottle  of  spirits,  and  Mr.  Barkell 
the  elder  rallied  Abel,  who  had  just  quietly  returned 
from  a  visit  to  his  wife's  chamber. 

"  What  a  man  !  Can't  keep  his  eyes  off  his  off- 
spring even  for  a  party  of  neighbours  !  " 

"  Looketh  all  in  a  miz-maze  of  wonder  about  it  still," 
said  Tommy  Ball. 

"  So  he  be,"  answered  Abel's  mother.  "  My  boy 
—  there,  'tis  life  to  him." 

Suddenly  John  Ball  spoke  in  his  solemn  voice. 

"  'Tis  a  great  power  to  have  a  hand  in  the  next  gen- 
eration, surely.  For  my  part,  to  say  it  in  a  Christian 
spirit,  I'd  'most  think  that  getting  a  babby  was  as  serious 
as  christening  of  it." 

"  Don't  you  tell  parson  that,  or  he'll  score  it  against 
you,  John,"  said  his  brother. 

"  Of  course  he  would,"  declared  Abner.  "  And 
right  he'd  be.  To  bring  a  child  in  the  world  is  no 
more  than  simple  nature.  The  cleverness  of  the  con- 
trivance ban't  ours,  but  Almighty  God's.  You  might 
so  well  say  'twas  a  clever  thing  to  turn  a  handle  of  one 
of  they  hurdy-gurdies  an'  play  a  tune.  Any  fool  can 
do  it.  The  clever  man  was  him  as  invented  the 
invention." 

"  Good  sense  that,"  assented  old  Ferryman.  "  To 
get  a  cheel  be  only  to  double  yourself  A  grain  of 
corn's  cleverer  still.      For  it  gives  you  fifty  for  one." 

"  Getting  a  child  isn't  doubling  yourself,  Ned," 
said  Dicky  Barkell.  "  'Tis  halving  yourself;  'tis 
lessening  yourself  by  so  much.  A  man  once  a  father 
may  be  so  much  the  greater  in  his  own  eyes,  but  he's 
so  much  the  less  in  nature's.  For  why  ?  To  breed 
be  to  do  what  nature's  set  on  your  doing.  After  that 
you'm    no  more  to  her  than  the  old  apple-tree  past 


THE    CHRISTENING    PARTY  209 

bearing.  Having  played  her  game,  you  can  go  an' 
shoot  yourself  for  all  she  cares." 

His  father's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Now  we'm  coming  to  the  secret  then,"  he  said. 
"  Dicky  here  won't  marry  for  fear  as  nature  should 
forget  him  after  !  " 

"  Nature  be  like  the  Lord  in  that  respect,"  said 
John  Ball.  "  It  says  '  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come 
unto  me.'  " 

"Well  spoken,  Johnny,"  answered  Mrs.  Pierce  with 
shining  eyes.  " 'Tis  very  well  put,  I'm  sure;  an' 
true  as  can  be.  Nature  will  do  'most  anything  in 
reason  for  the  little  dears,  an'  get  'em  out  of  their 
troubles  again  an'  again." 

"  Wi'  a  good  doctor's  help,"  said  Dicky.  "  If  they 
only  have  Doctor  Hext  an'  nature  'pon  their  side  — 
there's  hope  for  'em." 

"  But  it  ban't  so  afterwards,"  declared  Mr.  Perry- 
man,  conscious  of  age.  "  That's  where  the  Lord's 
ahead  of  nature,  no  doubt.  He  don't  turn  from  us 
when  we  begin  to  go  down  hill  —  too  large-minded  for 
that." 

"  Nature's  the  slave  of  childer  an'  the  cruel  task- 
master of  your  old  blids,"  said  Dicky.  "  As  for  us  in 
the  middle  time,  I  suppose  it  rests  wi'  ourselves  which 
she  shall  be.  Obedience  is  the  thing.  She  rewards  it. 
Look  at  my  old  man  here  with  the  whip  lashing  his 
bones.  'Tis  the  beer  he's  drunk  —  oceans  of  beer, 
though  of  course  he'll  tell  you  different." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Abner.  "  Beer  ban't 
no  more  to  me  than  a  seemly  joy.  I've  never  abused 
it.  What  I  feel  in  my  bones  is  only  nature  getting  in 
the  thin  end  of  the  wedge.  'Tis  planted  in  us  all,  an' 
she  just  waits  her  own  time  to  drive  it  home  an'  split 
the  spirit  from  the  carcase.  Why,  that  babby  in  the 
chamber  over  —  death's  in  her.     She've  got  to  come 


2IO  THE    PORTREEVE 

to  it,  though  her  httle  feet  will  run  above  our  dust 
for  many  years  first,  no  doubt." 

"  A  very  mournful  thought  for  a  christening,  any- 
way," said  Tommy  Ball.  "  Best  leave  that  an'  drink 
some  more  gin,  Mr.  Barkell." 

"  He  ban't  digesting  them  dough-nuts,  else  he'd 
take  a  hopefuller  view,"  suggested  Jane  Ferryman. 

"  As  to  that,  my  dears,  often  the  wisest  words  come 
from  an  uneasy  stomach,"  replied  Abner.  "  Last  vicar 
afore  this  one  actually  told  his  housekeeper  that  he 
never  preached  so  well  as  when  in  the  doctor's  hands. 
The  world's  full  of  mystery,  an'  a  lot  be  brought  down 
to  digestion  that  belongs  to  principalities  an'  powers,  if 
we  could  only  see  beyond  the  veil." 

"  There's  always  God  behind  every  hedge,"  summed 
up  Mr.  Ferryman. 

"  A  very  proper  thought,  Ned,"  said  Henny  Fierce  : 
"  an'  now  I'll  be  asking  some  of  you  men  to  get  going, 
for  the  smoke's  settling  on  the  dresser." 

Then  they  began  slowly  to  take  their  leave ;  and 
none  departed  without  a  kind  word  and  a  cheerful  hope 
that  the  infant,  now  admitted  into  the  ranks  of  the 
faithful,  might  enjoy  length  of  days  and  gladden  the 
hearts  of  her  parents  through  many  years  to  come. 


CHAPTER   VII 


A    MESSAGE 


MRS.  HORN  ventured  mildly  to  protest  at  this 
season  and  hint  that  her  brilliant  daughter  oc- 
cupied too  large  a  portion  of  Dodd  Wolferstan's 
leisure.  But  Primrose  passed  the  matter  lightly  off. 
"  Since  it  is  his  leisure  1  occupy,  you  need  not  be 
troubled,"  she  said.  "  Time  enough  to  talk  when 
he  comes  to  me  instead  of  his  business." 

The  woman  very  correctly  divined  Dodd's  attitude, 
and  knew  nearly  as  well  as  he  did  himself  the  process 
of  his  mind.  She  had  learned  him  thoroughly, 
and  therefore  found  patience  not  difficult.  She  sus- 
pected that  he  had  fixed  a  definite  date  for  the  solemn 
business  of  proposal,  and  guessed  that  after  the 
church's  fast  of  Lent  was  ended  and  Easter  come, 
he  would  approach  her.  Herein  she  erred  from  over- 
subtlety.  The  Portreeve  had  set  himself  no  limits 
and  put  no  exercise  upon  his  control.  Had  he  felt 
any  special,  ardent  hunger  to  possess  Primrose,  it  is 
possible  that  he  might  have  subjected  his  soul  to  dis- 
cipline ;  but  utmost  calm,  if  not  indifference,  marked 
his  attitude. 

She  came  to  church  pretty  often  through  the  winter 
and  read  a  religious  book  or  two  that  he  lent  her. 
But  in  the  matter  of  conduct  she  was  always  reason- 
ably honest  with  him,  and  he  knew  that  she  neither  felt 
so  deeply  nor  was  actuated  by  such  high  motives  as 
himself.  From  that  standpoint  she  often  reminded 
him  of  his  first  love ;  for  Ilet  had  never  pretended  to 


211 


212  THE    PORTREEVE 

much  devoutness  of  mind  and  always  preferred  a 
country  ramble  before  a  church  service,  when  he 
gave  her  choice. 

There  came  a  rough  afternoon  in  late  March  when 
Wolferstan  was  at  Bowden  to  visit  the  folds  with  Mr. 
Horn.  Over  wind-blown  lees  he  had  tramped  and 
inspected  great  wealth  of  new-born  bleating  things, 
where  on  slopes  at  spinney-side  and  under  lew  hedges 
they  cried  in  the  cold  sunlight.  Earth  had  again 
awakened  and  now  moved  to  the  lifting  sun  and 
music  of  birds.  And  where  her  coverlet  was  thrown 
aside,  it  shone  and  sparkled  with  many  buds  and 
many  wings ;  with  the  silver  of  the  sallows  and  the 
running,  laughing  fire  of  the  celandines;  with  the  inter- 
laced and  flashing  flight  of  birds  and  the  rosy  inflores- 
cence of  the  elm.  Spring  haunted  holt  and  fold  and 
growing  nest ;  spread  flowers  for  the  feet  of  the  young 
year;  moved  incarnate  in  the  shape  of  each  little  coun- 
try maiden,  who  lifted  wondering  eyes  to  trace  the 
shrill  larks  spiral  on  the  pale  blue  sky. 

Alexander  Horn  and  the  Portreeve  walked  together, 
visited  a  great  field  and  surveyed  the  hope  and  promise 
of  the  time.  In  a  corner  of  the  croft  stood  a  small, 
wooden  house  upon  wheels.  It  held  the  shepherd  and 
his  appliances.  Beneath  it  in  a  barrel  on  litter  of  hay 
were  three  lambs  that  had  come  at  a  birth  and  slain 
the  mother.  The  little  things  were  being  brought  up 
by  hand.  The  shepherd  warmed  their  milk,  then 
thrust  a  piece  of  flannel  in  the  mouth  of  the  bottle, 
and  gave  each  in  turn  the  improvised  teat.  They 
were  three  days  old  and  gaining  strength  rapidly. 

"  I  takes  'em  in  the  hut  with  me  of  a  night,  because 
warmth  be  as  much  as  food  to  'em,"  explained  the 
shepherd.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man  deeply  versed 
in  the  lore  of  flocks ;  but  blank  of  mind  respecting 
other  matters. 


A    MESSAGE  213 

"  What  a  year  for  twins  it  is  !  "  said  Wolferstan. 
"  But  one  seldom  hears  of  a  ewe  coming  to  harm. 
What  went  amiss,  shepherd  ?  " 

The  labourer  stooped  and  flung  a  stone  at  a  terrier 
that  was  scratching  at  the  grave  of  the  dead  mother ; 
then  he  shook  his  head. 

"Can't  tell  you,  Portreeve  —  no  more  than  I  can 
tell  you  why  the  lambs  always  twinkle  their  tails  when 
they  suck.  Maybe  she  was  a  thought  too  fat  for  her 
work,  though  I  don't  think  it.  But  there  'tis :  her 
time  had  come.     'Tis  one  life  for  three." 

"  You  must  get  'em  into  clean  pasture,"  said  Mr. 
Horn,  regarding  the  scene  doubtfully.  "  It's  time 
they  were  out  of  this." 

"  Only  waiting  for  the  wind  to  go  from  the  east. 
Then  us'll  up-along  to  '  ten-acre.'  " 

"  Improved  Leicesters,"  said  the  farmer  as  he  gazed 
upon  his  sheep.  " '  Improved  '  improved  Leicesters, 
if  I  may  say  it." 

"  Don't  seem  to  have  no  heads  at  all,"  declared 
Dodd  with  admiration.  "  A  beautiful  beast  without 
a  doubt." 

"  A  sheep  only  wants  his  head  for  eating  with," 
explained  Alexander  Horn.  "  If  us  could  breed  away 
everything  but  his  limbs  and  body  and  mouth,  'twould 
be  a  noble  feat." 

"  Have  'e  heard  tell  about  they  early  yeaning  Dar- 
sets  ?  "  asked  the  shepherd.  "  'Twould  be  a  peart 
thing  to  have  lambs  for  market  ahead  of  all  the 
countryside." 

"  Let  'em  stop  in  Darset  for  me,"  answered  his 
master.  "  They  black-faced  Lammermuirs  even  I 
shan't  keep.  Flesh  and  hair  alike  ban't  to  be  named 
alongside  these  here." 

"  They'm  so  hardy  as  ponies,  however,"  answered 
the  shepherd. 


214  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  An'  that's  all  you  can  say  for  'em,"  concluded 
Mr.   Horn. 

They  inspected  the  food  of  the  nursing  ewes  and  the 
pens  specially  erected  for  their  sleeping  quarters.  Each 
beast  had  her  own  little  separate  stall,  large  enough  to 
accommodate  mother  and  lambs  by  night. 

Presently  they  left  the  folds  and  visited  certain 
water-meadows  soon  to  receive  the  sheep  on  their  rich 
grasses.  And  then  they  returned  to  the  farm,  while 
Wolferstan  made  a  suggestion  or  two  as  they  went. 
His  great  deference  always  pleased  his  companion  ; 
but  the  farmer  generally  drove  Dodd  to  speak  his 
mind,  because  he  knew  the  Portreeve  was  practical  and 
kept  abreast  of  the  times.  Wolferstan,  indeed,  took 
no  little  toil  off  the  elder  man's  shoulders,  for  Mr. 
Horn  grew  unwieldy,  and  long  journeys  and  strange 
beds  were  a  labour  and  grief  to  him. 

Primrose  approached  them  presently,  and  her  father, 
who  had  of  late  been  unusually  impressed  with  his 
former  bailiff's  value,  permitted  himself  some  reflec- 
tions at  sight  of  her. 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  was  my  son-in-law.  Portreeve. 
An'  I  say  it  out,  though  I  never  met  any  other  man 
I'd  care  to  father." 

"  'Tis  like  your  great  goodness,  Mr.  Horn.  But 
you've  always  rated  me  a  deal  too  high." 

"  It  could  be  done  —  nought  easier  —  if " 

Dodd  saw  the  farmer's  eye  on  his  daughter. 

"  I'm  not  good  enough  for  her,"  he  said. 

"Stuff!  You're  built  for  her  —  made  for  a  pair. 
An'   I  wish   I   could  see  you  harnessed." 

Wolferstan  did  not  answer,  for  Primrose  was  now 
within  earshot.  She  joined  them  and  showed  pleasure 
that  he  was  coming  in  to  tea  at  Bowden.  Near  the 
farmyard  Mr.  Horn  left  them  together  and,  moved 
by  some  vague  thought,  the  Portreeve  suggested  that 


A    MESSAGE  215 

they  should  go  and  see  her  flower-garden.  It  rained 
suddenly  and  sharply  in  the  manner  of  March,  and 
presently  they  went  into  the  summer-house  for  shelter. 
At  the  entrance  she  stooped  to  the  border  and  picked 
her  name-flower. 

"  Put  them  in  my  button-hole,"  he  said,  and  she 
marked  the  constrained  note  of  his  voice. 

She  cast  a  swift  glance  at  the  face  of  the  farm,  lest 
unseen  eyes  might  be  upon  them,  then  went  into  the 
summer-house.  The  wind  rose  with  the  rain-storm 
and  the  hour  was  dark. 

Sitting  beside  him,  she  leant  across  his  breast  and 
obeyed  him.  Her  hands  shook  and  he  saw  that  they 
did.  She  was  long  about  her  task  and  he  had  leisure 
to  note  the  creamy  beauty  of  her  skin  and  the  loveli- 
ness of  her  ear  opposite  his  eyes.  Her  body  was  close 
to  him  ;  her  mouth  was  just  open  ;  her  hair  touched 
his  face  and  its  faint  odour  reached  his  nostrils.  He 
was  fired  swiftly;  the  passion  in  him  leapt  along  every 
nerve.  He  folded  her  up  in  his  arms,  pressed  her 
close,  kissed  her  ear  and  her  neck  and  her  cheek. 
She  shut  her  eyes  and  let  him  kiss.  Then  the  flowers 
fell  from  her  hand,  her  arms  went  round  his  neck  and 
fiercely  she  kissed  him  back. 

"At  last  you  love  me,"  she  said. 

"  Who  on  God's  earth  could  help  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

Victory  shook  the  woman  in  her  and  turned  her  to 
water.  She  shivered,  put  her  head  on  his  breast  and 
began  to  cry,  with  hard,  tearless  sobs. 

He  was  going  to  speak  and  ask  her  to  be  his  wife, 
when  a  maiden  came  running  from  the  house  and  the 
lovers  separated. 

"  Go  —  I  can't,"  said  Primrose  ;  and  Wolferstan 
rose  and  went  down  the  garden  path  to  meet  the  girl. 

She  spoke  before  he  had  time  to  ask  her  errand. 
'Tis  a  man  corned   for  you,  Mr.  Portreeve,     A 


(( 


2i6  THE    PORTREEVE 

railway-man  as  have  runned  all  the  way  from  Meldon 
Viaduct.  Can't  catch  his  wind  yet.  Harm  have  hap- 
pened and  your  name's  named,  if  you  please." 

"  I'll  come,"  said  Dodd.  "  Tell  him  to  wait  for  a 
while.      I'll  be  at  the  house  in  a  few  minutes." 

He  was  turning  to  the  summer-house  when  another 
figure  appeared  from  the  farm  and  Dicky  Barkell 
hastily  approached.  He  still  panted  with  his  unusual 
haste. 

"  What  luck  !  "  he  said.  "  I  somehow  thought  you 
might  be  here  and  ran  for  it  on  the  chance." 

"  You  to  run  !     Has  the  sky  fallen  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  a  hundred  tons  of  the  shillet-^  at  Meldon 
quarry  have.  Hope  they'll  excuse  me  for  pushing  in 
here  ;  but  'tis  life  or  death  —  a  question  of  minutes." 

"  No  harm  to  Mr.  Barkell  ?  " 

"No,  no  —  an  accident  at  the  quarry  —  a  man 
crushed  and  wants  you.  You'll  be  too  late  even  now 
very  like.  But  his  peace  hangs  on  seeing  you.  He 
prayed  to  send  for  you." 

The  Portreeve  shouted  to  the  unseen  woman  in  the 
summer-house. 

"  A  bad  accident  and  I'm  wanted  this  moment, 
Miss  Horn.  Man  may  be  dying.  I'll  come  back 
later  —  tell  your  father,  please." 

Primrose  did  not  answer  and  he  left  the  farm  with 
Barkell. 

"  I'm  spent,"  said  Dicky.  "  I've  run  a  mile  an'  a 
half  without  stopping,  I  should  think." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  Who  wants  me  and  where  ?  Let  me 
know  that  an'  I'll  push  forward." 

"  'Twill  be  a  race  with  death.  Abel  Pierce  is  the 
unlucky  one.  Stuff  came  down  sudden  an'  buried  him 
pretty  near  to  his  neck.  They've  took  him  home. 
He  was  awful  pinched  in  his  soft  parts,  poor  chap." 

l^^;7/er— shale. 


A    MESSAGE  217 


"  But  what  have  I 


"  He  axed  for  you.  When  they  dug  him  out,  he 
said  he  was  going  to  die  for  certain,  an'  axed  for  you 
thrice.  I  was  going  home-along  an'  heard.  Nobody 
else  heeded  ;  but  knowing  what  I  know,  I  guessed  the 
rest.  What  sent  me  to  Bowden  I  can't  tell  you,  Port- 
reeve. Just  a  sort  of  half  hope  you  might  be  there. 
But  1  little  thought  to  have  had  the  good  luck  to  find 
you." 

"  '■  Luck  ' !     You  can  say  that,  Dick  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  any  other  name  for  it.  But  I'll  call 
back  the  word  all  the  same,  for  no  man  knows  whether 
'twas  good  luck  or  bad  till  we  see  what  comes  of  it." 

"  He'll  be  alive  an'  I  shall  see  him,  Richard. 
Thank  God  —  I  know  what  he's  going  to  say  to  me." 

The  other  nodded. 

"  If  he's  to  die,  he'll  die  easier  for  telling  you  ;  if 
he's  to  live " 

"He'll  live  easier:  be  sure  of  that.  I  can  forgive 
him." 

"  Of  course.     I  was  thinking  of  his  wife." 

"  She  need  never  know." 

"  She'll  guess  he  didn't  want  you  for  fun  at  a  time 
like  this.  But  it  won't  clear  matters  our  talking  about 
it.  Go  you  down  over  the  hill  and  you'll  get  to  the 
cottage  in  ten  minutes." 

"  Right.  This  be  the  best  day's  work  ever  you  did, 
Dick." 

"  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure." 

The  Portreeve  started  to  run  and  went  forward  at  a 
steady  trot. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

ONE    TRAVELLER    RETURNS 

THE  wind  stormed  at  Wolferstan  as  he  ran,  and 
rain  swept  the  bhnd  face  of  South  Down  where 
he  hastily  descended  among  its  furze  brakes  and 
Httered  stones.  Presently  he  crossed  Oke  and  reached 
the  cottage  of  the  Pierces. 

Within  the  home  a  moment  of  peace  had  followed 
upon  the  catastrophe.  A  young  medical  man  had 
done  what  he  could  and  then  departed,  promising 
shortly  to  return.  The  full  nature  of  the  mischief  he 
did  not  as  yet  perceive,  and  he  had  left  wife  and 
mother  with  the  shadow  of  hope.  Only  Abel  himself 
felt  the  truth  and  believed  that  he  must  die.  He  had 
remained  insensible  for  some  time  after  sending  the 
urgent  message  for  Wolferstan ;  but  he  was  now  quite 
conscious. 

He  lay  breathing  hard  and  in  great  pain.  His  wife 
sat  beside  him  with  his  hand  in  hers.  His  mother 
stirred  in  the  chamber  and  kept  talking  hopefully. 

"  He'm  coming  back  so  soon  as  ever  he  can,"  she 
said.  "And  he'm  going  to  call  at  the  surgery  an' 
bring  a  comfort  or  two  along  with  him.  And,  please 
God,  there'll  be  no  need  for  you  to  go  in  the  hospital ; 
as  why  for  should  'e,  with  a  wife  an'  mother  both  to 
look  after  'e  ?  " 

"  Where's  the  baby  to  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Bring  her 
along  to   me   all  you  can.     I   mayn't  see  her    much 


more." 


218 


ONE   TRAVELLER    RETURNS  219 

Ilet  fetched  the  child.  It  was  sound  asleep  and  she 
put  it  beside  him. 

"  The  only  thing  as  will  believe  in  me  after  to-day," 
he  said. 

"  You  mustn't  talk  so,"  his  wife  answered. 

"  Wait  till  the  man  comes.  'Tis  years  since  that 
ground  gave  way.  .  .  .  To  tell  it  while  I've  got 
power  to  speak.  .  .  .  How  clear  it  all  comes  again, 
though  I  thought  'twas  forgot.  .  .  .  Everything 
back  in  my  mind  to  the  least.  .  .  .  Why  ban't  he 
here  ? " 

"  He'm  on  the  way  without  a  doubt." 

"  Never  tell  she,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  child.  He 
turned  his  neck  to  get  a  better  view  and  groaned. 
"  Done  for  —  done  for,"  he  said. 

Henny  brought  him  some  drink,  but  he  shook  his 
head. 

"  I  can't  let  it  down." 

Ilet  noticed  a  change  in  his  colour  and  a  difference 
in  the  sound  of  his  breathing. 

Be  you  in  pain  ?  "  she  asked. 

Not  much,  dear.  My  right  side's  dead  already, 
I  reckon.  How  the  wind  howls  in  the  chimney  —  like 
a  drunken  man." 

"  Us  would  put  a  fire,  but  it  smokes  so." 

The  child  opened  her  little  eyes,  clenched  her  fists 
and  yawned. 

"You  believe  in  me  —  the  only  living  thing  as  will 
after  I'm  gone.  Never  tell  her  I  was  a  lying  rascal  — 
never  tell " 

He  stopped. 

"  Don't  'e  talk  that  silly  nonsense,  darling  Abel," 
implored  his  wife.  "  Wait  quiet  till  he  comes.  Sit 
down,  mother,  can't  'e  ?  Why  for  do  you  want  to  flut- 
ter about  so  ?  " 

Silence  fell.     Henny  came  and  knelt  by  the  bed. 


220  THE   PORTREEVE 

Then  the  wind  shouted  and  the  old  carpet  seemed  to 
breathe  laboriously,  like  the  man. 

"You  must  face  it.  It's  got  to  be,"  he  said  pres- 
ently. "Don't  fret  too  much  —  neither  of  you. 
You've  got  this  dear  li'l  thing  —  mine.  Let  me  see 
you  feed  her,  I  let.  'Tis  the  sight  I  love  best,  after 
you  two  women's  faces." 

She  obeyed  him,  and  he  turned  his  head  slowly  to 
watch  the  small  fat  hands  kneading  his  wife's  breast 
and  the  little  mouth  sucking. 

For  a  few  moments  the  sight  made  him  forget  him- 
self; then  agony  brought  him  back. 

"  God  !  I  hope  it  ban't  going  to  be  a  long  job,"  he 
murmured.     "I  feel  like  half  fire,  half  frost." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  cottage  door,  and  Henny 
went  out  hastily  to  answer  it.  A  moment  later  she 
accosted  Dodd  Wolferstan  at  the  ope-way. 

"  Look  here,"  she  said  with  a  swift,  shaking  voice, 
"  list  to  me,  will  'e  ?  My  son  —  he  thinks  he'm  struck 
for  death,  but  well  we  know  he  ban't.  But  he's  wan- 
dering, and  don't  know  what  he  says.  He's  burning 
to  tell  you  some  stuff  against  himself —  to  confess  to 
you,  Mr.  Portreeve.  Don't  you  be  hard  —  for  my  sake 
—  for  his  mother's  sake  —  don't  be  hard  on  him  now." 

"  I  hope  and  trust  'tis  not  so  bad  as  they  say." 

"  Bad  enough,  but  he'll  come  through  it.  Doctor 
said  'twas  too  soon  to  call  him  a  dead  man." 

"  Will  he  see  me  ?     Is  he  in  a  case  to  do  it  ?  " 

She  hesitated  and  longed  to  say  *  no  ' ;  but  she  dared 
not. 

"  You  must  see  him  for  his  peace ;  I  know  'tis 
right  you  should.  Doctor's  coming  again  with  com- 
forts presently.  For  God's  sake  be  kind  to  him. 
Don't  judge  him  —  a  fallen  man.  You'm  such  a 
famous  Christian :  don't  let  your  heart  be  hard  against 
my  poor  boy." 


ONE   TRAVELLER    RETURNS  221 

"  No  need  to  say  such  things.  Who  am  I  to  judge 
any  but  myself?  " 

"  Remember  he  reckons  he's  dying.  Never  bring 
up  what  he  says  after,  Mr.  Portreeve  —  when  he's  well 
again." 

"  Don't  fear  it.  Live  or  die,  he'll  be  a  happier  man 
for  telling  me.     And  what  he  says  will  be  sacred." 

"  Will  you  soar  up  even  to  forgiving  him  .?  'Twill 
be  a  blessed  thing  if  you  can." 

"  Forgive  him  — yes." 

I  let  entered,  gave  her  child  to  the  grandmother  and 
beckoned  Dodd. 

"  Come,"  she  said.  "  What  he've  got  to  say  must 
be  heard  by  you  an'  me  only.  'Tis  his  whim  the 
child  shouldn't  be  in  the  room." 

Wolferstan  followed  her  to  the  parlour  where  Abel 
lay,  and  Mrs.  Pierce  remained  in  the  kitchen. 

At  the  door  Ilet  turned. 

"  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  coming  so  quick. 
My  husband's  very  bad,  Mr.  Wolferstan.  Half  dead 
a' ready,  he  fears." 

"  'Tis  the  shock.     I  hope  an*  pray  he'll  be  spared." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  But  you'll  say  nought  to  lessen 
his  chance  of  getting  through  ?  " 

"  Can  you  ask  it  ?  " 

"  You'll  be  gentle  —  I  well  know  that." 

"Surely,  Ilet." 

She  opened  the  door  and  brought  him  in. 

"  Here's  Mr.  Wolferstan  come  hot-foot  to  do  your 
bidding,  my  dear." 

"  Be  hopeful.  Pierce,"  said  Dodd.  "  I  do  trust  with 
all  my  heart  you're  going  to  come  through  this  trial." 

He  put  his  hand  down  to  Abel's  and  pressed  it. 

"  Ess  —  I  shall  come  through.  Death's  no  great 
evil  for  the  man  that  dies.  'Tis  them  left  behind.  .  .  . 
Look  at  her  —  my  wife  —  as  ought  to  be  your  wife. 


222  THE    PORTREEVE 

I've  got  God  to  tackle  afore  along,  an'  don't  want  to 
make  it  worse  than  'tis.  Can  you  forgive  me  —  you 
an'  her  ?  I  kept  you  apart  .  .  .  lied,  tricked,  blinded 
both  of  you.  .  .  .  'Twas  my  anointed  wickedness  to 
plot  an*  plan  it.  Full  of  guile  I  was — quickened  by 
love  of  her.  .  .  .  Clever  as  a  snake.  Love  makes  a 
man  cunning.  ...  I  foxed  you  fifty  times  .  .  .  black- 
ened your  name  .  .  .  jumped  at  every  chance  to  do 
it.  Can't  make  myself  out  worse  than  I  be.  But  I 
know  you'm  a  blameless  man,  Portreeve,  an'  I  always 
knowed  it,  though  I  pretended  with  myself  you  wasn't." 

"  Rest  a  bit,  my  dear  soul,  and  hear  me,"  said  Wolfer- 
stan.  "  Love  be  stronger  than  any  mortal  thing,  seem- 
ingly. A  man  in  love's  worse  than  one  in  liquor,  for 
his  wits  don't  grow  dull.  'Tis  his  conscience,  not  his 
brains,  goes  drunken.  You  done  what  a  many  have 
afore  an'  will  again.  I  forgive  you,  Abel  Pierce,  with 
all  my  heart  —  as  I  hope  I'll  be  forgiven  for  my  own 
many  sins." 

His  wife  ministered  to  the  stricken  man's  torment 
as  best  she  could. 

"  An'  you  —  you,  I  let  ?  "  he  asked.  "  'Twas  the  love 
I  bore  to  you —  I  couldn't  help  it.  If  the  time  comed 
again,  I'd  do  the  same.     Here  on  the  edge  of  the  pit 

say  It. 

His  wife  held  his  hand. 
'Tis  all  forgiven  —  all,"  said  Wolferstan. 
I'll    know    that    by    night.     There's    God.  .   .  . 
Never  you   tell   her  —  swear  by  your  hope  of  heaven 
you'll  never  tell  my  darter  come  she  grows  up." 

"  I  swear  I  never  will." 

"  That's  all  then.  Go  now.  Thank  you  for  for- 
giving me." 

Dodd  touched  his  hand  and  was  going  to  take  Ilet's, 
but  native  delicacy  stopped  him  and  he  ignored  her. 

"  God  support  you,"  he  said  to  Pierce,  "  an'  may 


ONE    TRAVELLER    RETURNS  223 

He  bring  you  from  death  back  to  life  again.  But  if 
'tis  His  will  you  go  home,  rest  easy  :  what  a  man  can 
do  for  those  you  leave  behind,  that  shall  be  done," 

Abel  listened  greedily  and  nodded. 

"  Do  it.  'Twill  put  you  high  in  heaven  when  your 
turn  comes." 

Then  the  Portreeve  went  out  and  appeared  not  to 
notice  Ilet  as  he  did  so„ 

"  Be  a  Christian,"  said  Abel  earnestly  and  suddenly. 
"  Be  a  working  Christian  after  I'm  away.  An'  bring  up 
the  cheel  sOo  See  what  it  makes  of  yon  man.  Promise, 
Ilet." 

"  Ess,  I  will,  darling." 

"  An'  say  '  I  forgive  you,  Abel.' " 

"  I  forgive  you  with  all  my  heart  an'  soul,  dear, 
dear  Abel." 

"You  know  why  I  done  It  —  for  worship  of  yoUc" 

«  I  know." 

The  doctor  returned  a  few  moments  later ;  and  with 
him  came  an  elder  practitioner  whom  he  had  met  on 
the  roado  Mr.  Hext  knew  the  family  and  had 
brought  Ilet's  daughter  into  the  world. 

The  wife  went  away  and  left  them  with  her  husband. 
She  and  her  mother-in-law  sat  and  waited  in  the 
kitchen.  Once  Abel  shouted  under  examination,  and 
Ilet's  blood  froze;  but  the  mother  encouraged  her. 

"Shows  the  life  that's  there,"  said  Henny.  "A 
man  as  can  holler  so,  be  far  ways  off  death  surely." 

Interminable  minutes  passed.  A  fever  of  restless- 
ness took  them.  Sometimes  one,  sometimes  the  other 
crept  to  the  parlour  door,  then  crept  back  again„ 

At  last  the  physicians  appeared  and  told  them  their 
man  must  die  and  swiftly.  The  younger  prepared  to 
hasten  for  drugs  to  lessen  his  pain.  That  he  under- 
took to  return  with  them  himself  was  a  sort  of  comfort 
to  Henny. 


2  24  THE    PORTREEVE 

They  departed  together  and  the  mother  went  back 
to  her  son. 

"  Bear  up,"  he  said.  "  I  knowed  what  they'd  got 
to  tell  me.  They'll  send  stuff  to  help  me  off  easy. 
Where's  my  baby  to  ?     Put  her  close  —  close/' 

Ilet  brought  the  child  to  him. 

"  Don't  leave  her  till  I  be  cold,"  he  said;  "but  let 
her  bide  so  long  as  her  will " 

Outside,  the  doctors  went  through  the  stormy  skirts 
of  night.  Both  were  mounted,  and  now  they  had 
some  ado  to  pick  their  way  through  the  rough  valley. 
The  younger  was  recently  qualified  and  revealed  an 
emotional  nature. 

"  Their  hungry  eyes  !  "  he  said  ;  "  their  dumb,  im- 
ploring silence.  It's  hard  to  give  a  stone  to  those  that 
pray  for  bread.  How  the  proudest  sort  of  men,  when 
lives  are  in  the  balance,  will  grovel  to  the  doctor." 

"  Don't  talk  —  ride  on  as  fast  as  you  dare,  and  get 
the  morphia,"  answered  Mr.  Hext. 

Abel's  mother  seemed  unable  to  accept  what  she 
had  heardo     She  sat  by  her  son  and  stared  at  him. 

"  Bear  up,"  he  said  again.  "  'Tis  all  right.  My 
thread's  spun." 

"Yes  —  yes — I  be  bearing  up.  Don't  you  talk. 
Keep  your  strength  all  you  know.  Doctors  is  often 
wrong." 

He  was  silent  and  this  made  her  nervous.  An  awful 
doubt  came  upon  her  that  she  would  never  hear  his 
voice  again.  She  plotted  in  her  mind  to  make  him  speak, 
just  oncCo  His  eyes  were  shutc  The  baby  nestled 
by  him  awake  and  happy.  Presently  she  slept  again. 
His  hand  moved,  where  he  was  fondling  her  little 
feeto 

"  Try  to  sleep,"  said  Henny, 


ONE   TRAVELLER    RETURNS  225 

He  did  not  answer  and  a  frenzied  fear  grew  that  he 
would  answer  no  more. 

"Say  '  good  night '  afore  you  sleep,  my  darling  boy," 
she  implored  him. 

"  Good  night,  mother.  .  .  .  Ilet,  good  night  .  .  . 
no  pain  now  .   .   .  good  .   .   ." 

Within  half  an  hour  he  passed  without  a  pang. 
A  tremor  overtook  him  ;  his  limbs  extended  ;  his  head 
rolled  to  one  side  ;  and  as  he  died,  he  smiled. 

"  He's  gone  —  your  son  be  at  peace,  dear  mother," 
said  Ilet. 

Sleep  and  death  lay  in  the  bed  together. 

The  mother  got  up  and  kissed  him. 

"  Gone  —  his  soul,  like  a  homing  pigeon,  back  to  his 
father  an'  his  God,"  she  said. 

In  the  valley  came  the  sound  of  the  wind  and  a 
galloping  horse. 

Henny  stared  and  did  nothing.  Wild  dance  of 
huddled  thoughts  played  in  the  corridors  of  her  brain  ; 
links  were  broken;  synthesis  of  ideas  became  impossible. 
She  could  by  no  means  reflect  coherently,  or  measure 
the  thing  that  this  black  hour  had  brought.  Her  in- 
tellect was  strained  and  jolted  out  of  gear.  It  leapt 
backward  ;  then  jumped  forward  far  beyond  the  present. 

Out  of  the  storm  came  the  young  doctor  hurriedly. 
He  was  soaked  with  rain. 

"  How  is  your  good  man  —  pretty  quiet  ?  "  he  asked 
Ilet. 

She  got  up  from  her  knees  beside  the  couch. 

"Yes,  thank  you,  sir,"  she  said.     "  He's  gone." 

One  of  Henny  Pierce's  rare  smiles,  that  seemed  to 
work  to  the  surface  of  her  countenance  slowly  from  the 
depths,  now  spread  upon  her  ancient  face..  She  turned 
to  the  dead  man, 

"My  dandy-go-rlsset  gown's  wore  out  these  many 
days,  dear  heart,"  she  said.   "  'Twas  time  I  had  another." 

Q 


CHAPTER    IX 

LIGHT    ON    A     PROBLEM 

IT  was  not  until  three  days  after  the  funeral  that 
Dodd  Wolferstan  again  visited  Bowden.  Primrose 
Horn  was  out,  and  another  week  elapsed  before  he 
saw  her.  Then  she  was  interested  to  find  that  he  did  not 
pursue  the  subject  of  their  last  conversation,  or  resume 
that  most  significant  scene  where  chance  broke  it  off. 
Interested  she  was,  but  not  astonished:  his  absence 
had  indicated  the  possibility  of  delay.  Now  he  seemed 
unable  to  discuss  anything  but  the  recent  death.  Prim- 
rose gathered  that  Abel  Pierce  had  made  a  confession 
to  the  Portreeve  before  he  died  ;  and  she  felt  deeply  con- 
cerned to  learn  the  purport  of  it.  When  Dodd  stayed 
away,  her  first  thought  was  that  the  labourer  had  told 
him  all  ;  when  he  returned,  she  could  but  doubt  it. 
The  matter  presently  rose  between  them  ;  but  Wolfer- 
stan only  stated  that  Pierce  had  done  wrong  in  the 
past  and  that  he  had  confessed  and  repented  of  it  before 
his  end.  The  nature  of  his  errors  and  the  names  of 
those  who  might  have  suffered  therefrom,  she  did  not 
hear.  She  angled  for  particulars,  and,  when  she  ex- 
claimed at  the  incident,  and  declared  that  a  man  of  the 
stamp  of  Pierce  must  have  had  an  accomplice  in  any 
considerable  and  successful  wrong-doing,  he  told  her 
explicitly  that  Abel  had  named  none. 

She  sent  a  wreath  of  flowers  to  the  funeral  and  oc- 
cupied her  mind  with  the  new  problems.  If,  indeed, 
her  name  had  not  transpired,  why  was  it  that  Dodd 

226 


LIGHT    ON    A    PROBLEM  227 

Wolfcrstan  did  not  return  on  the  very  night  of  the 
accident  as  he  had  promised  to  do  ?  With  intuition 
that  sickened  her,  she  came  at  the  reason. 

And  while  she  waited  to  see  him  pick  up  the  threads, 
the  Portreeve  hesitated  and  suffered.  Great  funda- 
mental facts  faced  him.  He  looked  ahead,  and  he 
looked  into  his  heart. 

With  the  company  of  the  mourners  and  Ilet  herself 
he  had  attended  the  funeral  of  Abel  Pierce ;  and  he 
had  gone  home  with  the  widow  afterwards.  They  did 
not  drive  from  the  little  graveyard  of  Sourton,  where 
Pierce  was  laid  beside  his  father,  but,  at  I  let's  wish, 
walked  back  over  the  Moor,  then  crossed  Oke  and  so 
approached  Fishcombe  cottage.  Henny  could  not 
attend  the  burial.  She  became  light-headed  and  ir- 
responsible. An  old  woman  from  Okehampton 
looked  after  her  and  her  grand-daughter  until  the  widow 
returned. 

While  they  walked  together,  Ilet  spoke  to  Dodd 
and  asked  him  to  forgive  her,  as  he  had  forgiven  her 
husband.  Such  words  were  unnecessary  between  them, 
and  he  begged  her  to  be  practical. 

"  We  can  talk  of  the  past  another  time,  if  you  like 
to  do  so,"  he  said.  "  Just  now  let  me  play  a  friend's 
part,  and  trust  me,  and  talk  of  the  future.  If  old  Mrs. 
Pierce  is  going  to  get  tootling,  she  must  be  put  away." 

"  Never  !  'Tis  but  a  passing  cloud.  Doctor  says. 
She'll  come  to  herself  presently.  'Twas  the  awful 
shock.  I  know  well  enough  how  she  felt  and  feels 
yet.  I  was  mad  myself  the  night  he  died  —  had 
to  hold  my  hands  over  my  mouth  to  keep  from  scream- 
ing like  an  animal." 

"  There's  not  a  soul  but  feels  sorrow  for  you  all." 

"  'Tis  a  very  terrible  thing.  I  loved  him  so  dearly. 
A  good  husband  —  a  wonnerful  husband,  I  should 
think." 


228  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  You  haven't  thought  about  what  you're  going  to 
do  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  I  can't  leave  the  little  one.  Nought 
else  matters  —  except  his  old  mother.  One  of  the 
last  things  he  said  to  me,  when  she  went  down-house 
to  let  you  in  that  night,  was  that  I  must  always  be  a 
good  darter  to  her.     And  I  shall  be." 

"  Trust  you  for  that.  You  must  have  somebody 
to  pour  yourself  out  upon.  Love's  food  to  you. 
Now  he's  taken,  'twill  be  the  child  and  his  mother." 

She  nodded  slowly. 

He  admired  her  calm  courage  under  suffering  and 
knew  that  she  had  endured  great  griefs  bravely.  He 
wondered  whether  her  husband's  confession  had  served 
to  diminish  for  her  the  agony  of  his  death  ;  but  he 
much  doubted  it.  Once,  long  ago,  she  had  told  him 
that  nothing  she  loved  could  do  wrong  in  her  eyes ; 
and  he  had  reproved  her  for  such  narrow  seeing.  Now 
he  remembered  it.  He  speculated  also  as  to  whether 
she  had  thought  of  him  and  the  things  that  must  be 
moving  in  his  mind  after  he  left  Abel  Pierce.  It 
struck  him  that  this  side  of  the  event  had  not  yet 
arisen  before  Ilet.  It  would  take  time  before  she  could 
remember  that ;  yet,  even  at  this  stage  in  her  widow- 
hood, while  yet  the  earth  scarcely  hid  her  husband's 
coffin,  Wolferstan  vaguely  hoped  that  Ilet  would 
presently  picture  his  side,  and  weigh  it,  and  remember 
how  this  confession  from  the  past  must  have  sounded 
in  his  ear. 

Hourly  he  found  himself  more  interested  in  her 
state.  After  the  first  shock,  he  received  the  changed 
situation  with  growing  excitement.  Each  morning  it 
rose  uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  constantly  he  found 
his  footsteps  leading  to  the  glen  where  she  lived.  His 
thoughts  haunted  Fishcombe  cottage  and  made  excuses 
to  carry  his  body  thither.     His  attitude  amazed  him- 


LIGHT   ON   A   PROBLEM  229 

self.  It  had  not  been  assumed  gradually  ;  it  had  not 
developed  by  slow  stages  as  a  result  of  this  death  and 
sudden  change  ;  but  it  had  burst  out,  like  a  banked 
fire  blown  upon.  He  was  bewildered  to  find,  alive  and 
awake,  an  emotion  that  he  supposed  long  dead.  Ilet 
appeared  to  have  returned  into  his  existence  after  so- 
journ in  another  world.  She  had  come  to  life  again. 
He  had  thought  no  more  of  her  while  she  was  Pierce's 
wife ;  she  had  left  his  mind  empty  to  pursue  its  des- 
tined aims ;  but,  as  a  widow,  she  became  to  him  Ilet 
once  more.  Soon  even  the  fact  of  her  widowed  state 
ceased  to  intrude  upon  the  position.  She  was  merely 
Ilet.  Before  the  autumn  she  had  become  a  maiden 
again  in  his  heart,  and  he  found  himself  loving  her  as  he 
had  loved  her,  and  longing  for  her,  even  as  he  had 
longed. 

But  storms  swept  the  man's  soul  before  he  reached 
this  point,  and  he  fought  more  than  one  battle  with 
conscience.  These  struggles  daily  renewed  brought 
dryness  of  spirit  and  weariness,  fear  of  himself,  distrust 
and  distemper  of  mind.  Yet  not  all  the  light  of  his 
steadfast  faith  was  strong  enough  to  show  him  whether, 
touching  these  conflicts,  he  had  won  or  lost. 

His  spiritual  sense,  firmly  educated  in  the  Christian 
ethic,  smote  him  at  the  height  of  his  new  and  rapturous 
hope,  and  turned  his  mind  immovably  upon  the  busi- 
ness of  that  hour  when  Richard  Barkell  ran,  and  found 
him,  and  brought  to  him  the  last  message  of  Abel 
Pierce. 

The  memory  of  Barkell  took  him  to  the  man ;  but 
he  passed  through  periods  of  sharp  self-contempt  be- 
fore he  went.  It  seemed  that  he  was  living  again 
through  those  weeks  of  torment  before  Ilet  finally 
turned  from  him.  His  own  irresolution  frightened 
him,  and  the  failure  of  religion  clearly  to  light  the  way 
rendered  him  uneasy.     To  find  himself — a  man  so 


230  THE   PORTREEVE 

swift  and  resolute  in  his  dealings  —  thus  reduced  to 
impotence  before  this  problem,  quite  bewildered  his 
spirit.  The  matter  was  one  for  conscience  alone.  He 
stood  between  two  women ;  and  one  he  knew  loved 
him  well,  while  the  other  with  his  whole  heart  and  soul 
he  loved.  But  was  it  possible  to  withdraw  honourably 
from  Primrose  ?  He  remembered  very  vividly  his 
conduct.  He  knew  that  all  things  had  thrust  him  to 
her ;  he  blushed  under  the  darkness  of  night  to  think 
that  his  blood  had  grown  hot  at  the  smell  of  her  hair. 
He  was  debased  in  his  own  eyes  and  ashamed  of  the 
healthy  but  animal  passion  she  had  wakened.  Could 
he  marry  her  now  that  the  fire  she  had  lighted  was  cold 
and  beyond  power  of  further  flame  ?  He  abased  him- 
self in  secret  and  turned  about  for  guidance. 

Sometimes  Alexander  Horn,  sometimes  his  clergy- 
man, sometimes  Dicky  Barkell  had  offered  him  counsel ; 
but  matters  of  conscience  hitherto  he  had  decided  for 
himself  Much  he  distrusted  the  signalman's  sources 
of  inspiration ;  yet  to  Barkell  and  not  a  minister  of 
the  Christian  Gospel,  he  went  at  this  pass. 

He  sought  his  friend  on  a  grey  evening  in  late  sum- 
mer, and  together  they  walked  upon  the  high  ground 
above  Okehampton.  To  the  somewhat  sexless  Barkell 
he  confessed  his  own  fire  of  the  flesh  and  found  it  easy. 
He  explained  how,  by  gradual  stages  extending  over 
many  months,  he  had  drawn  closer  to  Primrose  Horn 
and  felt  that  destiny  designed  to  unite  them.  Then, 
even  in  the  hour  that  would  have  seen  his  declaration 
and  her  acceptance  of  it,  came  the  message  from  the 
dying.  Those  tender  passages  of  love-making  were 
broken  off;  and  now  it  was  impossible  for  Wolferstan 
to  renew  them  without  acting  a  lie.  His  passion  was 
dead  beyond  possibility  of  waking ;  his  real  love, 
smothered  by  circumstance,  but  never,  as  he  believed, 
extinguished,   burnt    again   with  fires  both  fierce  and 


LIGHT   ON   A    PROBLEM  231 

clear.  There  was  only  one  woman  in  the  world  for 
him,  and  no  world  without  her.  It  might  indeed  be 
that  Ilet  was  not  for  him,  and  that  her  child  and  her 
dead  husband's  memory  and  mother  must  suffice  to  fill 
her  life ;  but  whether  she  would  in  time  accept  again 
his  love  and  worship  or  refuse  them,  the  fact  could  not 
alter  their  existence. 

"  I'd  rather  live  with  the  shadowy  hope  of  having 
that  woman,  than  with  the  eternal  possession  of  the 
other  —  that's  how  'tis  with  me,  Richard,"  he  summed 
up. 

"  When  you  do  ask  a  question,  it's  a  poser  as  a 
rule,"  answered  Dicky  ;  "  but  this  one  don't  look  so 
difficult  to  me  as  it  may  to  you,  perhaps.  It's  a  ques- 
tion of  how  far  you  went  with  t'other.  I'll  tell  you 
why  for  you  came  here,  Dodd,  and  didn't  go  to  parson. 
Because  he'd  say  'twas  for  your  conscience  to  answer, 
and  you  think  I  wouldn't.  And  I'll  tell  you  another 
thing :  your  conscience  is  clear,  for  all  you  think  and 
pretend  it's  not." 

The  other  started  at  this  direct  attack. 

"  You  talk  of  conscience  very  glibly,"  he  said. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  never  told  you  I  didn't  trust  it.  I 
only  explained  the  cause  of  it  differently  to  you.  'Tis 
a  live  thing,  anyhow,  and  it's  told  you  that  you've 
gone  too  far  with  t'other  to  draw  back  and  still  be  at 
peace  with  yourself  If  it  had  told  you  different,  you'd 
have  beHeved  it  first  time  and  been  very  well  con- 
tent." 

"  You're  wrong  there  —  utterly.  'Tis  just  because 
I  can't  convince  myself  how  far  I  did  go  that  I  come 
to  you." 

"  If  you  don't  know,  I'll  wager  she  does.  Have 
you  ever  axed  yourself  what  that  woman's  been  think- 
ing all  these  months  ?  " 

"No." 


232  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  Well,  try  to." 

"  She  must  see  the  case  is  altered  noWo  To  marry 
where  you  don't  love  is  a  hard  nut,  Richardo  My 
conscience  certainly  does  not  support  that." 

"  Didn't  you  tell  her  you  did  love  her  ?  Didn't  you 
kiss  her?  Surely  that  means  everything.  How  does 
she  know  you're  hankering  after  Mrs.  Pierce  ?  How 
should  she? " 

"  My  silence  must  have  shown  what  a  complete 
change  Ilet's  freedom  had  made  in  my  mind.  She 
can't  have  been  so  very  much  astonished  surely  — 
remembering  the  past  ?  " 

"  You're  in  a  tight  place  —  even  I  see  that,  know- 
ing so  little  of  'em  as  I  know  or  want  to  know.  Throw 
over  that  woman  now  and  you've  got  an  enemy  hun- 
gry as  the  grave  for  evermore.  Not  the  love  of  fifty 
widows  will  shield  you  from  the  hate  of  one  like  her. 
She's  said  to  be  a  very  determined  sort,  and  she's  waited 
a  long  time  for  the  right  husband.  She's  got  the  pluck 
often  men.  She  wants  you  ;  she  worked  terrible  hard  to 
get  you  from  your  own  account ;  and  she  wasn't  ashamed 
to  let  others  see  her  game.  She'd  actually  brought  it 
off,  mind.  If  I'd  walked  instead  of  run  from  Meldon, 
when  Pierce  was  smashed  up,  you'd  be  engaged  to  be 
married  to  her  this  very  day,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  admit  that ;  but  suppose  'twas  Providence  sent 
you  ?     Haven't  I   a  right  to  believe  so  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  call  yourself  a  thinking  man.  Does 
Providence  change  its  mind  like  a  woman  ?  Does 
Providence  plan  to  put  you  in  a  girl's  arms  and  then 
pull  you  out  of  'em  again  by  a  contrivance  ?  If  there  is 
a  Providence,  'tis  not  a  spiteful  fool.  Anyway,  a  time 
will  come  when  you'll  say  'twas  the  Devil  sent  me  to 
you,  not  Providence,  if  you  throw  her  over.  That's 
all  I've  got  to  say  about  it.  I  warn  you  for  your  life's 
peace.     I  say  *  marry  Miss    Horn.'     She's   a   pretty 


LIGHT   ON   A   PROBLEM  233 

good  sort  by  all  accounts,  and  as  pleasant  as  any  of 
'em,  when  she  gets  her  own  way.  She'll  be  rich,  I 
suppose.  You'll  climb  high  with  her  to  help.  You'd 
never  be  happy,  remember,  unless  you  were  going  up 
and  up.  Anyway,  as  to  rightness  or  wrongness,  you'll 
not  be  doing  wrong  to  take  her." 

"  1   should,  for  I  don't  love  her." 

"  Too  late  for  a  little  point  like  that.  You  loved 
the  female  in  her,  and  would  again.  That'll  do  for  a 
start. 

"  I'm  not  much  impressed  with  your  opinion,  Dick. 
I  wonder  what  your  father  would  say  now  ?  " 

The  signalman  laughed  amiably. 

"  Come  and  ask  him,  if  you  like.  Why  not  go 
round  and  ask  everybody  till  you  find  one  as  jumps 
with  your  mind  ?  'Tis  strange  to  me  that  one  so  strong 
in  life  should  be  so  weak  in  love  —  yet  I  dare  say  it 
often  haps.  You  put  it  to  father,  as  if  'twas  some- 
body you'd  heard  about,  and  see  what  he'll  say  from 
his  Christian  point  of  view.  And  I'll  bet  you  a  pint 
that  me  and  him  are  of  a  mind  for  once." 

"  Is  love  for  another  woman  to  count  for  nothing? " 

"  Not  now.  That's  ruled  out  by  the  run  of  the 
game,  since  you   can't  have  both." 

A  silver  sunset,  scarcely  touched  with  warmth  but 
spun  of  cold  greys,  spread  upon  the  clear  and  colour- 
less west.  Beneath  it  earth  faded  into  leaden  darkness 
and  detail  vanished  from  the  outspread  land.  Hori- 
zons had  already  vanished ;  the  great  hill  that  swells 
east  from  Okehampton,  over  whose  bosom  the  fields 
are  spread  with  divisions  between,  like  the  network  on 
a  giant  tortoise-shell,  now  lost  its  reticulation  of  hedge- 
rows. The  rounded  valley,  the  forests  beyond,  and 
the  township  in  the  midst,  were  all  merged  and  over- 
whelmed with  gloom.  Presently  the  lights  of  the 
town  glimmered  out  of  the  darkness  and  twinkled  deep 


2  34  THE   PORTREEVE 

set  in  the  shadows  of  night,  like  a  constellation  of  earth- 
born  stars. 

The  men  returned  to  Barkell's  home,  and  Dicky, 
who  was  about  to  go  on  duty,  ate  his  supper  and  put 
the  case  of  Wolferstan  to  Abner.  The  old  man  listened 
to  the  details,  puffed  at  his  pipe  and  nodded. 

"  A  kicklish  thing  for  the  chap,  whoever  he  be," 
he  confessed. 

"  And  won't  he  make  a  rare  enemy  of  the  second  if 
he  holds  off  now  ?  " 

"  That's  nought.  'Tis  the  danger  of  much  worse 
than  that  overtaking  him.  'Tis  right  or  wrong.  He'm 
as  like  to  have  an  enemy  in  the  woman  soon  as  late,  if 
he  takes  her  or  if  he  don't.  Because,  if  he  don't  love 
her,  she'll  find  it  out,  an'  so  she's  an  enemy  of  his  own 
household  afore  they'm  married  a  year  anyway.  But 
there's  the  right  and  wrong,  as  I  tell  you.  He's  so 
good  as  axed  her  to  have  him  already.  And  if  he 
don't  do  it,  the  man  wrongs  his  conscience ;  an'  to  wrong 
your  conscience  be  to  wrong  God  A'mighty,  as  gave 
you  your  conscience  ;  an'  to  wrong  God  A'mighty  be 
to  play  with  hell  fire." 

"  Now  you  know  where  that  chap  stands,  Dodd," 
said  the  signalman.  He  winked  behind  his  father's 
back. 

"  Gospel  truth,"  continued  Abner.  "  If  you  must 
have  enemies,  let  'em  be  men — or  even  women  — 
rather  than  the  Heavenly  Father.  Death's  self  be 
easier  than  Him ;  for  Death  can't  do  more  than 
kill.  Death  forgives  and  forgets  the  dead.  But  Him 
—  the  Everlasting  Jehovah  —  He  made  hell,  an'  that's 
always  the  last  ugly  word  for  his  enemies,  if  I  read  my 
Book  right." 

"There  'tis  then  —  in  a  nutshell — Portreeve,"  said 
Abner's  son.  "  What  could  be  clearer  ?  A  choice 
between  hell  in  this  world  for  the  man,  and  hell  in  the 


LIGHT    ON    A    PROBLEM  235 

next.  Let  the  silly  soul  choose  hell  here,  for  'twill 
only  last  his  lifetime  —  or  hers,  if  he  be  lucky  ;  whereas 
if  he  throws  her  over  now,  he's  heating  the  Eternal 
God's  anger  against  him  ;  and  that's  only  another  name 
for  the  eternal  fire." 

Between  the  mocking  and  the  serious  voice  Wolfer- 
stan  sat  and  listened. 

Then,  when  Dicky  rose  to  cross  the  bridge  and  go 
to  his  work,  Dodd  accompanied  him. 

The  subject  dropped  between  them  and  the  Port- 
reeve presently  left  his  friend.  Never  had  he  found 
Richard  Barkell  less  sympathetic  and  more  arid.  He 
tramped  home  through  a  black  night  slowly.  But  the 
darkness  of  earth  and  sky  were  light  against  the  gloom 
of  his  spirit. 


CHAPTER   X 


BLACK    TOR    COPSE 


WHILE  Wolferstan  thus  fought  the  battle  of  his 
life  and  as  yet  but  dimly  guessed  the  signifi- 
cance    of    decision,    two    women    were    con- 
cerned about  him.     Months  passed  and  the  position 
developed. 

Ilet  Pierce,  ignorant  of  the  truth  with  respect  to 
Dodd  and  Alexander  Horn's  daughter,  supposed  that 
matter  was  ended  and  Wolferstan  free.  Her  husband's 
confession  had  explained  a  part  only  of  the  facts,  but 
it  served  to  dispel  her  suspicions  as  to  an  attachment 
between  Primrose  Horn  and  her  own  old  lover.  There 
awoke  in  her,  therefore,  some  gentleness  of  mind 
towards  Wolferstan.  It  tinctured  her  grief  and  light- 
ened her  mourning.  She  perceived  that  she  had 
greatly  wronged  him.  Farther  than  that  her  thoughts 
would  not  have  taken  her,  but  for  the  Portreeve's  own 
altered  attitude.  It  became  obvious  that  she  still 
attracted  him.  His  actions  were  like  the  beginning 
of  love's  actions,  and  he  seemed  to  have  started  afresh 
on  the  old  road.  When  he  met,  he  did  the  little 
things  that  he  was  wont  to  do  before  they  were 
betrothed.  She  understood  that  he  began  to  come 
closer,  but  she  did  not  observe  that  his  approach  was 
spasmodic  and  not  regular  —  a  thing  of  fits  and  starts. 
Sometimes  for  many  days  he  did  not  see  her  ;  some- 
times he  visited  Fishcombe  cottage  thrice  in  a  week. 
But  it  was  long  before  Ilet  thought  of  him  in  con- 

236 


BLACK   TOR   COPSE  237 

nectlon  with  the  future.  That  matter  now  called  for 
much  consideration.  The  world  is  too  sorrowful  to 
have  great  sympathy  with  sorrow,  and  grief  is  a  luxury 
for  which  the  poor  cannot  spare  working  hours.  The 
bread-winner  gone,  Mrs.  Pierce  and  her  daughter-in- 
law  were  immediately  reduced  to  poverty  ;  therefore 
soon  they  set  forth  into  daily  life  again,  as  the  timid 
bather  enters  the  sea.  Before  anything  could  be  done, 
however,  the  Portreeve  had  become  a  factor  in  decision. 
The  spirit  of  her  dead  husband  might  haunt  night  with 
mournful  and  reproachful  eyes ;  but  he  came  to  her 
while  she  was  plunged  in  certain  moods  alone  ;  at  other 
times  Ilet  suspected  that  the  sacred  care  of  her  little 
child  and  Abel  Pierce's  mother  might  be  better  assured 
by  marriage  than  widowhood.  Henny,  now  sane  and 
resigned,  held  otherwise  and  cried  out  against  the  idea. 
Ilet  had  not  spoken  her  thoughts,  but  the  mother 
of  Abel  divined  them  after  a  protracted  evening  visit 
from  Wolferstan.  She  burst  into  a  hail  of  reproaches, 
against  which  there  could  be  no  argument.  Ilet  suffered 
the  elder  to  rave  herself  weary  ;  then  she  retired  to  bed 
with  her  child. 

Thus  affairs  stood  with  the  widow  six  months  after 
the  death  of  Pierce ;  but  for  Miss  Horn  the  case  was 
widely  different.  She  started  from  familiarity  with  the 
truth.  The  truth  her  rival  had  never  known.  Her 
wonderful  gift  of  patience  was  strained  to  its  utmost 
bounds  of  endurance  now.  She  recognised  the  altered 
relations  between  them  and  invented  excuses  for  him. 
They  were  more  the  excuses  a  man  might  have  made 
than  a  woman.  She  probed  his  thoughts  deeply  and 
arrived  exceedingly  near  the  truth  of  them.  The  battle 
that  he  fought  was  not  hidden  from  her;  his  alterna- 
tions of  mind  she  perceived  ;  a  great  fundamental  flaw 
in  his  character,  unguessed  till  then,  revealed  itself  to 
her  understanding.     She  found  that  he  could  be  weak 


238  THE    PORTREEVE 

as  any  other  man,  and  weaker  than  many.  The  hope- 
less but  single-hearted  attachment  of  the  fool,  Orlando 
Slannlng,  shone  as  a  steadfast  star  beside  Wolferstan's 
vacillations.  She  misread  him  here  and  assumed  that 
he  was  in  love  with  her  as  well  as  with  Ilet.  It  cooled 
her  own  ardour  no  little  that  such  a  thing  could  be ; 
that  he  still  hankered  after  another  man's  widow  while 
her  virgin  freshness  and  beauty  was  waiting  for  him  ; 
but  ft  did  not  cool  her  desire  to  be  his  wife.  She 
exhausted  all  her  skill  when  in  his  company  to  bring 
Dodd  to  the  definite  word ;  but  she  failed.  He  was 
less  at  Bowden  than  of  yore  ;  yet  he  broke  off  his  regular 
visits  so  gradually  that  only  Primrose  noted  the  change. 
Mr.  Horn  wondered  why  the  man  did  not  propose 
and  have  done  with  it ;  while  his  wife,  to  whom  he 
confided  his  surprise,  evaded  the  point.  For  her  part 
she  desired  a  better  match  and  preferred  Slanning  to 
the  Portreeve. 

The  huntress  allowed  her  thoughts  to  play  forward 
sometimes,  even  as  Ilet  had  done  ;  but  that  way  dark- 
ness confronted  her  and  anger  made  her  pulses  race  in 
secret.  The  idea  that  he  might  yet  throw  her  over 
seemed  actual  madness  ;  it  was  only  this  delay  that 
raised  even  the  ghost  of  such  a  possibility  in  her  mind. 
She  knew  that  he  was  most  surely  going  to  ask  her  to 
marry  him  when  the  interruption  came ;  and  she  knew 
that  he  was  an  honourable  and  upright  soul.  For  such 
a  man  to  touch  her  lips  with  his  own  and  put  his  arm 
round  her,  amounted  at  the  least  to  the  offer  of  mar- 
riage. So  she  waited  for  him  to  come  to  his  senses 
and  finish  the  thing  begun.  Her  mother  only  knew 
the  existing  strain ;  and  she  guessed  it,  for  Primrose 
uttered  no  word  concerning  the  matter  and  revealed 
by  no  look,  nor  sigh,  nor  other  action,  the  thing  within. 

She  pursued  her  life  steadily,  met  Wolferstan  cheer- 
fully, was  familiar,  friendly,  eager  to  hear  of  his  sus- 


BLACK   TOR    COPSE 


239 


tained  good  fortune.  She  spoke  of  the  subjects  he 
opened ;  never  followed  any  topic  that  brought  hesita- 
tion of  manner  to  him;  never  alluded  to  I  let  Pierce; 
always  took  cordial  leave  of  him  when  he  departed. 
She  continued  her  habit  of  going  to  church  and  showed 
an  indifferent  demeanour  to  the  world. 

Orlando  Slanning  often  met  her,  and  she  allowed 
him  to  go  for  walks  and  rides  beside  her.  They  also 
chanced  together  sometimes  at  cub-hunting,  for  the  fall 
of  the  year  was  now  returned.  He  never  wavered 
and  still  hoped  on,  fired  by  love  and  the  secret  know- 
ledge that  Mrs.  Horn  was  upon  his  side.  Her  support 
might  be  as  shadowy  as  herself,  but  it  was  something. 
In  the  matter  of  Wolferstan,  too,  his  eyes  were  opened 
by  Primrose's  mother.  In  confidence  she  revealed  the 
situation  as  she  suspected  it ;  and  Slanning,  seeing 
Dodd  Wolferstan  and  Ilet  Pierce  together  at  Oke- 
hampton,  made  much  of  the  incident  as  he  told  it  to 
Miss  Horn.  He  even  dared  to  draw  conclusions  from 
it ;  but  she  laughed  and  told  him  to  mind  his  own 
business  and  not  be  foolish. 

"  The  Portreeve  is  a  sensible  man,  whatever  else  he 
may  be,"  she  said.  "  To  saddle  himself  with  a  labourer's 
widow  and  child  —  such  an  ambitious,  determined  crea- 
ture 1     A  most  unlikely  thing,  I  should  think." 

Even  while  they  thus  discussed  him,  Dodd  Wolfer- 
stan stood  a  few  miles  distant  on  the  Moor,  and 
tramped  steadily  from  the  central  waste  homeward. 
That  day  he  had  finished  his  photographic  commission 
with  the  regret  proper  to  completion  of  a  pleasant  task. 
He  had  just  taken  certain  pictures  of  the  shaggy, 
desert  scenes  round  Cranmere  Pool.  Heavy  rain  had 
partially  filled  the  ancient  cradle  of  rivers  and  lent  a 
little  of  its  old-time  beauty  to  that  austere  desolation. 
Under  conditions  of  sunshine  and  blue    sky,  Dodd 


240  THE   PORTREEVE 

worked  successfully ;  then,  a  little  after  noon,  he  ate 
his  bread  and  cheese,  smoked  his  pipe  and  rested  for 
a  while  before  setting  off  on  his  return  journey.  At 
grey  dawn  he  had  started,  and  watched  the  nightly 
mists  steal  away  at  the  advent  of  the  sun. 

Now  there  came  to  him  a  period  of  clean  thinking, 
and,  like  many  before  him  in  that  uplifted  loneliness, 
his  mind  turned  upon  itself  and  wrought  a  grander 
pattern  than  usual  into  the  texture  of  resolve.  Stark 
and  stern  in  the  colours  of  the  dying  year,  Dartmoor 
spread  around  about ;  and  stark  and  stern  life  faced 
him.  Clarity  reigned  in  his  spirit  for  a  season  ;  free 
for  once  from  the  shifting  rainbows,  storms,  mirages 
of  desire  and  love,  he  saw  the  kingdoms  of  his  own 
heart  and  their  allegiances. 

That  spectacle  plunged  him  into  battle,  and  as  the 
storm  of  it  blew  off,  clear  duty  shone  out  like  the  sun. 
To  desert  Primrose  now  must  be  to  cloud  his  life  with 
dishonour ;  and  to  take  her  was  to  cloud  his  life  with 
loss.  Content  could  never  dwell  under  his  roof  more. 
Ilet's  self  could  not  make  him  happy  now. 

His  nature  suffered  deeply  and  the  conflict  tore  him. 
He  fell  to  prayer,  that  he  might  the  better  support  a 
determination  growing  in  him.  He  assured  himself 
that  his  mind  was  now  most  resolutely  affirmed,  and 
he  urged  himself  to  do  quickly  the  thing  that  he  had 
decided  upon.  There  was  heat  and  turmoil  and  even 
a  frenzy  of  rebellion  in  his  mind  at  his  own  conclusion. 
It  did  not  come  as  a  residuum  from  the  crucible ;  it 
did  not  remain  after  the  purifying  fires  were  out  and 
the  strife  cold.  It  rather  reached  him  fiercely  in  the 
very  heat  and  storm  of  battle.  It  pierced  him  like  a 
wound,  was  blown  to  him  like  a  flame,  enveloped  him, 
scorched  him,  struck  him  down  weak  and  gasping. 
The  resolve  was  come  at  before  its  foundations  were 
established.       His  own  fearful  haste  to  accomplish  it, 


BLACK  TOR   COPSE  241 

showed  that  he  mistrusted  the  strength  of  the  conclu- 
sions upon  which  it  was  built. 

His  spirit  raged  against  right  for  a  long  time.  Then 
he  started  to  his  feet,  slung  his  tools  over  his  back  and 
moved  westward  with  strides  swift  and  uneven. 

"To-day  —  to-night  —  before  God  I'll  see  her  and 
be  her  promised  husband.  I  owe  it  to  her  and  my 
own  honour.  I  kissed  her  —  I  loved  her — I  thought 
I  loved  her,  anyway.  A  man  has  no  right  to  dwell  in 
doubt  of  such  a  holy  thing  as  love.  I'm  rightly  pun- 
ished, and  though  my  punishment  may  last  till  my 
grave,  I'll  bear  it  as  I  have  borne  all," 

Self  pity  swamped  his  mind,  and  his  steps  slowed 
down  as  he  contemplated  his  misfortune.  The  con- 
sciousness of  honour  saved  did  not  support  him.  His 
soul  was  full  of  bitterness.  He  began  to  feel  that  he 
was  most  unfairly  punished.  Cruelty  lurked  in  such 
an  awful  reward  of  his  error.  This  was  a  wanton 
stroke  of  Heaven  :  to  ruin  a  promising  man  at  the 
outset  of  his  career.  He  had  done  the  work  often  and 
lived  laborious  days  ;  he  had  conquered  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh  and  won  the  credit  and  esteem  of  all  honest 
folk  —  for  this.  He  was  to  be  crushed  for  ever  for 
cine  moment  of  weakness.  He  would  not  have  pun- 
ished a  disobedient  dog  so  terribly  himself. 

The  man  broke  his  thoughts,  as  we  snap  a  string, 
and  blew  them  from  him  with  a  great  expiration.  He 
was  now  on  the  flank  of  High  Willhayes,  far  under 
Fordsland  Ledge  ;  and  next  he  sank  into  the  defile 
between  that  hill  and  the  precipices  west  of  Oke.  He 
intended  to  follow  the  river  by  Black  Tor  Copse  on- 
ward until  it  flowed  beneath  South  Down.  Then  he 
would  climb  to  Bowden  and  ask  Primrose  Horn  to  be 
his  wife. 

He  thought  of  Barkell,  and  his  sore  heart  for  a 
moment  envied  the  other's  philosophy.     But  Barkell 


242  THE   PORTREEVE 

had  urged  the  course  his  own  conscience  now  coun- 
selled. Dodd  went  on  his  way  sick  with  religion  ;  and 
yet  he  felt  deeply  angered  with  himself  at  an  emotion 
so  evil.  Only  the  Source  of  Evil  could  have  sent  it. 
His  mind  held  firm.  He  looked  at  his  watch  and 
told  himself  that  within  two  hours,  before  sunset 
touched  the  world,  he  would  have  promised  to  wed  a 
woman  he  did  not  love. 

Then  he  stood  among  the  oaks  of  Black  Tor 
Copse ;  and  moving  there,  with  her  child  in  her  arms, 
the  woman  he  did  love  came  to  him  very  innocently, 
and  stood  between  him  and  his  purpose.  It  remained 
for  the  foundations  of  that  purpose  to  reveal  their 
strength. 

He  looked  ahead  and  saw  her  among  the  grey  tree 
trunks  —  a  tall,  dark  figure,  that  moved  slowly  and 
held  an  infant  wrapped  in  a  little  mouse-coloured 
shawl. 

Black  Tor  Copse  spreads  straggling  under  the  gran- 
ite masses  above.  It  is  a  stony  grove  set  in  a  wilder- 
ness, flanked  by  the  steep  of  a  mountain  on  one  side, 
fringed  by  the  silver  of  Oke  upon  the  other.  The 
song  of  this  river  met  the  lisp  of  the  leaves  in  ceaseless 
strophe  and  antistrophe  through  summer  months. 
Now  the  wind  woke  the  foliage  and  diminished  the 
voice  of  the  water ;  now  the  tinkle  and  whisper  of 
glittering  falls  dominated  any  listening  ear  with  their 
music.  Sometimes  the  trees  slept  and  not  a  leaf 
stirred  ;  sometimes  their  arboreal  slumbers  would  sud- 
denly be  broken  by  a  mighty  clatter,  when  blue-winged 
wood-doves  clashed  away  from  hiding-places  under  the 
low  boughs.  Or  at  twilight  a  fox  might  bark  and 
break  the  primal  peace  of  this  most  ancient  wood. 
These  and  countless  lesser  things  knew  the  place  for 
home ;  but  conscious  creatures  rarely  haunted  it. 

Ilet,   however,   came    here    not    seldom  while    yet 


BLACK   TOR   COPSE  243 

her  future  remained  unsettled.  To  her  sad  spirit  the 
fastness  spoke  with  a  force  beyond  the  power  of  words 
and  a  peace  beyond  prayer.  Nature's  impassive  heart 
held  communion  with  her  troubled  one  and  comforted 
it.  She  had  seen  the  wood  bud  and  shine  and  darken 
through  spring  to  summer;  she  had  marked  it  flame 
again  to  the  touch  of  October,  had  watched  the  leaf 
return  to  the  root  and  the  lichen-clad  branches  bared 
for  another  winter. 

Wolferstan  stood  beside  her  without  words,  and  it 
seemed  that  some  sense  of  the  meaning  of  this  meeting 
struck  her  mind  also,  for  she,  too,  was  silent.  He  put 
down  his  things,  and  they  sat  together  on  a  stone, 
where  often  she  had  sat  before.  A  cradle  of  granite 
hollowed,  full  of  moss  and  leaves,  was  at  her  side,  and 
she  laid  the  baby  in  it. 

"  More  pictures  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 

"  The  last.  I've  done  my  work  to-day.  They 
should  make  a  pretty  book  if  well  printed.  I've  been 
to  Cranmere.     Was  up  and  away  before  five  o'clock." 

"  You  must  be  very  tired." 

"  Of  my  own  company — yes.    Of  Dartmoor,  never." 

"  It  comes  to  me  quite  sad-like  that  I've  got  to 
leave  it." 

"  *  Leave  it '  ?     What  d'you  mean  ?  " 

"There's  no  money,  you  know.  I'm  going  into 
service,  as  soon  as  the  child  is  weaned." 

Service  !  But  I  promised  Abel  Pierce." 
His  mother — yes  —  not  me.  I'm  young  and 
strong.  My  little  one  here  is  going  to  stop  with 
mother,  and  I'm  hoping  to  go  out  in  Okehampton, 
so  as  to  be  within  reach  of  them.  As  for  you,  you've 
done  enough  as  it  is." 

"  You  can't !     I  won't  have  it,  Ilet !  " 

"  'Twill  be  a  very  good  and  proper  thing  for  me." 

"  I  won't  have  it,  I  tell  you." 


244  THE   PORTREEVE 

She  said  nothing. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  poor  Pierce  went  ?"  he  asked. 

"  More  than  six  months  now.  I  see  you've  had 
his  father's  stone  set  up  again  and  his  name  cut  on  it 
too.  And  the  text.  'Twas  balm  to  his  mother  when 
she  read  it.     She  blessed  you  for  it." 

"  I'm  glad  she's  forgiven  me.  I  know  I've  angered 
her,  coming  so  often  to  see  you  of  late.  But  a  force 
stronger  than  fear  of  her  dislike  drew  me.  I'm  a  mis- 
erable man,  Ilet,  though  all  the  world  thinks  me  such 
a  smiling,  prosperous  one." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,  Dodd." 

"  The  things  that  don't  show  —  the  fool's  tricks  we 
do  and  only  we  know  them  —  us  and  God." 

"  You  shouldn't  let  your  sense  of  right  torture  you 
too  much.  Ban't  healthy-minded.  Parson  said  last 
Sunday  that  consciences  can  be  too  active  as  well  as 
too  lazy.  But  he  made  haste  to  add  that  'twasn't  a 
common  trouble  wi'  Okehampton  folk." 

The  Portreeve  showed  interest. 

" 'Tis  a  great  point  that — especially  coming  from 
such  a  scholar  and  soul-searcher  as  him.  Barkell  holds 
that  conscience  —  the  still  small  voice  —  not  so  small 
neither,  for  it  shouts  like  thunder  often  —  he  holds  'tis 
no  more  than  another  name  for  what  we've  been 
taught,  or  what  we've  gathered  together  of  learning." 

"  What  then  .?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why,  then  it  follows  that  it  may  tell  us  wrong. 
We've  all  learned  more  in  youth  than  we'll  stick  to 
in  manhood.  Once  show  that  'tis  education  working, 
and  not  Almighty  God,  and  things  be  easy  that  looked 
difficult  —  yes,  and  other  things  grow  hard  that  looked 
easy.     It  cuts  both  ways." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You'm  too  learned  for  me.  I  can't  even  follow 
such  words  or  understand  'em.     What  was  it  made  my 


BLACK   TOR    COPSE  245 

Abel  speak  at  the  end — just  afore  he  went?  The 
fear  of  God  surely." 

"The  fear  —  yes.  Fear  of  what  his  Maker  and 
his  Judge  would  do  if  he  took  his  long  lie  to  the  pit. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  judge  him.     Yet " 

He  broke  off  and  stared  back  at  his  resolves  of 
an  hour  before.  Already  their  stern  outlines  were 
dimmed.  He  rebelled  in  his  heart,  turned  round  upon 
himself,  clutched  at  any  metaphysical  straw  that  could 
help  to  save  him  from  lifelong  union  with  the  unloved. 

Unconsciously  Ilet  did  the  rest.  She  spoke  ten- 
derly and  hopefully.  She  revived  him.  Her  eyes 
triumphed  over  him.  The  steadfast  strength  and 
simplicity  of  her  sentiments ;  her  interest  in  things  of 
religion;  her  patience  before  the  grey  future  —  all 
impressed  themselves  with  passionate  force  upon  his 
spirit. 

"  My  husband  made  me  promise  to  go  to  church," 
she  said.  "  And  I  do  ;  and  slowly  —  too  slowly  belike 
—  the  going  grows  to  a  good  thing.  *Tis  very  restful. 
I  look  forward  to  it.  Prayers  ban't  to  me  half  I've 
heard  you  say  they  are  to  you  ;  but  in  time " 

"  Pray  with  me,  Ilet !  "  he  burst  out,  and  his  voice 
was  wrung  with  more  than  she  guessed  at.  "  Pray  with 
me  —  add  your  dear,  lovely  life  to  mine,  and  our  days 
shall  be  a  prayer  and  a  striving  to  do  good  and  make 
the  world  better.  Ilet  —  Ilet,  marry  me  !  I  can't  go 
any  further  without  you.  If  'tis  wrong,  'tis  wrong  — 
yet  why  ?  Yet  if  it  is  —  there's  no  wickedness  beyond 
atonement." 

"  '  Wicked  ' !  'Tis  not  that,  but  great  and  generous 
above  the  ways  of  common  men.  I  ban't  worth  your 
thought,  let  alone  your  love.  'Tis  not  to  say  one 
word  against  that  dear,  loving  heart  that  be  cold  in  the 
grave  —  not  a  word.      But " 

"  Marry  me.     He  wouldn't  say  *  no    to  that.     The 


246  THE    PORTREEVE 

spirits,  with  their  higher,  truer  knowledge,  are  never 
hard-hearted  when  they  look  down  at  us,  Ilet.  They 
don't  grudge  us  the  poor  little  childish  hopes  and 
plans  for  happiness  that  make  up  the  fleeting  good  of 
life  here.  Marry  me  ;  be  part  of  me ;  let  us  go  hand 
in  hand  always  through  the  few  years.  I  implore  it  — 
I  implore  it,  Ilet." 

"  You  ax  for  a  poor,  broken  thing.  An'  this  little 
bud  —  what  be  she  to  you  ?  " 

"  Dear  to  me — always  dear  to  me,  since  she's  yours. 
God  judge  me  if  I  don't  love  her  like  my  own,  Ilet. 
And  you  —  say  it  —  say  It  quickly.  Say  you  will 
—  some  day  —  in  the  future  after  the  full  year  has 
passed.  The  full  year,  or  more,  as  you  feel  about  It. 
Say  it,  or  I  won't  answer  for  myself.  You  owe  it  to 
me.     You're  a  just  woman.     Say  It,  Ilet." 

"  This  comes  something  too  soon,  dear  Dodd.  If 
you  will,  you  must.  I'll  take  you  come  presently  — 
and  I  thank  God  for  It,  and  your  grief  or  good  I'll 
share.  Such  a  feeble  thing  as  my  life  be  —  I'll  spend 
it  for  your  happiness  —  every  working,  thinking  hour 
of  it.  'Tis  no  treason  to  him,  for  you've  a  right 
above  all  rights.  I  wish  I  was  better  worth  such  an 
unchanging  heart  as  yours." 

"  God  bless  this  day,  and  blot  my  doubts,  and  show 
me  I  have  done  right  in  His  sight,"  said  Wolferstan 
solemnly.  "  May  the  Everlasting  Father  that  makes 
resolves  in  our  hearts,  then  brushes  them  away  and 
puts  others  there  Instead  —  may  He  stand  beside  us 
in  the  life  before  us,  Ilet.  May  God,  as  sent  you  to 
me  in  a  terrible  inner  hour,  have  sent  you  for  His  own 
high  purpose.     And  right  well  I  know  He  did  do." 

The  Portreeve  took  her  into  his  arms  and  held  her 
long  without  speaking.  He  did  not  kiss  her.  The 
child  slept  beside  them. 

"  Never   a  word   of  this  yet,"  said  the  widow  pres- 


BLACK   TOR    COPSE  247 

ently.  "  Never  a  word  till  he've  been  gone  his  full 
year.     'Tis  only  seemly.     You'll  promise  that  ?  " 

"  'Tis  very  seemly  and  right.  We'll  say  nothing 
till  after  next  Easter." 

"  Thank  you,  Dodd." 

Silence  fell  between  them  and  the  voices  of  the 
leaves  and  the  water  rose  in  their  eternal  hymn. 

"  What  Yes  Tor  couldn't  give,  the  Copse  have 
granted,"  he  said.  "  Now  we  are  one  for  evermore, 
and  nothing  but  death  can   come  between." 

"And  that  can  come  so  easily  —  at  a  breath,"  she 
answered. 

"  We've  got  fifty  years  of  work  for  Heaven  afore 
us,  please  God." 

"  Hold  the  child  a  little.  I'd  like  to  see  you  do 
it,"  she  said. 

He  slung  his  tools  about  him  and  she  carried  his 
camera,  while  the  atom  in  the  shawl  slept  peacefully  on 
his  broad  breast. 

"  What  a  light  morsel  'tis  !  " 

"  Light  or  heavy  —  according  to  the  heart  she's 
pressed  to." 

They  took  their  way  by  the  river  ;  and  the  wood 
was  left  alone  to  its  own  moods  and  voices.  Where 
they  had  sat,  the  grass  blades  slowly  rose  again  ;  the 
depressed  mosses  recovered.  The  clouds  rolled  over 
the  hills  and  the  stream  rolled  over  her  bed.  Waters 
passed  melodiously  through  the  gorge  to  their  sister 
river  and  their  mother  sea ;  while  aloft,  now  like  a 
pall,  now  like  a  panoply,  now  like  snow  and  now 
like  fire,  the  subtle,  silent  flakes  and  vans  of  the  great 
clouds  sailed.  They  were  bringing  the  rivers  back 
again  from  the  Atlantic  to  their  cradles  in  the  wilder- 
ness. 

Thus  the  unceasing  changes  are  rung  on  the  river 
and  in  the  cloud  and  in  the  last  arcana  of  the  human 


248  THE    PORTREEVE 

heart ;  thus  a  truth  appears  from  these  plutonian  rocks 
and  the  ceaseless  waters  that  lave  them  ;  from  the  va- 
pours that  the  west  wind  herds  and  drives  homeward  to 
this  wild  land  out  of  the  wilder  ocean  ;  from  the  human 
heart  of  Wolferstan,  throbbing  with  joy  and  darkened 
by  inner  doubt  and  suffering. 

Matter  is  eternal,  but  no  form  of  it ;  and  there  is 
nothing  absolute  —  neither  at  the  foundations  of  the 
round  world,  nor  in  the  domain  of  conscious  intelli- 
gence. Morals  and  matter  alike  know  no  constant 
form,  since  evolution  is  an  imperishable  principle  to 
which  both  are  subject.  Of  that  and  the  other  natural 
laws,  known  and  unknown,  alone  can  it  be  said  that 
they  endure,  that  they  are  universal,  that  they  exist 
independently  and  are  above  the  fitful  span  of  any 
single  planet  and  its  burden  of  life.  As  man  swarms 
upon  the  face  of  this  his  home,  exists  and  passes  end- 
lessly until  the  end  ;  so  the  golden  galaxies  of  innumer- 
able suns  and  the  wonder  and  glory  of  the  systems 
that  they  sustain,  sweep  their  solemn  pageants  through 
the  universe  ;  shine  and  live  ;  fulfil  their  destinies  ;  are 
darkened,  perish,  and  depart.  Only  the  laws  are 
eternal,  not  the  mightiest  worlds  that  obey  or  intellects 
that  reveal  them. 


CHAPTER  XI 

BREAKING    THE    NEWS 

AFTER  the  anniversary  of  Abel  Pierce's  death  was 
passed,  Wolferstan  obtained  Ilet's  leave  to  make 
public  the  news  of  their  betrothal.  He  had  sunk 
upon  a  sort  of  peace  and  beheved  that  marriage  would 
consummate  it  and  finally  put  his  heart  at  rest.  But 
now  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  inform  the  world 
of  the  thing  that  he  had  done  ;  and  when  he  set  his 
face  to  Bowden  on  a  certain  Sunday  in  spring,  he  per- 
ceived that  peace  was  not  yet.  To  tell  Primrose  Horn 
of  his  engagement  appeared  a  hard  thing  ;  therefore  he 
sought  it  first. 

The  talk  at  dinner  ran  on  the  Okehampton  Agricul- 
tural Association.  The  secretaryship  was  vacant,  and 
Mr.  Horn  expressed  a  hope  that  Wolferstan  would  get 
it.  The  matter,  indeed,  was  nearly  settled  in  the 
Portreeve's  favour,  and  he  much  desired  to  fill  the  post 
for  various  reasons. 

"  Good,"  said  Alexander  Horn.  "You'll  be 
thorough  and  not  scamp  the  work.  'Tis  only  by 
looking  to  the  parts  you  can  make  success  of  the 
whole." 

I've  got  to  thank  Mr.  Slanning  for  it,  I  believe." 
More  likely  that  woman  in  front  of  you,"  said  the 
farmer,  pointing  at  Primrose.     "  I   lay  Orlando  asked 
her  advice.     Her  word's  law  to  him  —  eh,  Prim  ?  " 
She  shook  her  head. 

"  It  rested  with  a  friend  of  his.  Dodd  was  nearly 
decided  upon.     And  I  said  I  was  glad  —  that's  all." 

249 


cc 


250 


THE    PORTREEVE 


"And  what  makes  you  glad  be  good  enough  for 
Slanning,"  answered  her  father. 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  murmured  Wolferstan.  "  But 
I'm  grateful  indeed.     It  suits  me  well." 

Mrs.  Horn  uttered  a  few  words  in  her  gentle  speech. 

"  So  busy  as  you  are,  you've  hardly  time  for  grati- 
tude, Mr.  Wolferstan." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  and  his  face  flushed  up.  "  I 
stand  corrected.  You're  all  so  good  to  me  without 
ceasing,  that  I've  taken  too  much  for  granted.  I'm 
not  worth  your  kindness  ;  I " 

"  There  —  there,"  interrupted  Horn.  "  None  of 
that.  She  will  be  so  sentimental.  She  only  looks 
at  one  side  of  you.      Let  be." 

"  I  feel  all  your  goodness  and  my  poor  payment. 
I  owe  you  all  so  much.  I  am  busy  indeed  —  but  not 
too  busy  to  learn  from  my  betters.  Forgive  me  if  I've 
said  or  done  anything  to  hurt  you,  ma'am.  I'd  rather 
go  dumb  to  my  grave  than  speak  a  word  give  you 
pain." 

"  'Tis  not  what  you  say  ;  but  what  you "  she  re- 
plied in  her  whispering  voice.  Then  the  farmer  stopped 
her. 

"  No  poetry  —  won't  have  it  at  dinner.  Go  on  with 
your  food,  all  of  you ;  an'  don't  peck,  missis  —  for 
God's  sake  don't  peck !  'Tis  my  daily  cross  to  see 
you  fiddling  with  your  victuals.  I'd  give  'em  a  thou- 
sand pounds  if  the  doctors  could  make  you  hungry." 

He  snorted  through  his  nostrils,  like  the  sound 
of  one  of  his  own  bulls.  Then  he  proceeded  with 
his  meal  and  did  not  speak  again  until  the  end 
of  it. 

Wolferstan  now  addressed  his  remarks  principally 
to  Mrs.  Horn.  Her  attitude  surprised  him  and  hurt 
him  exceedingly ;  for  he  understood  the  thing  in  her 
mind.     Circumstances    and   this    unfortunate   incident 


BREAKING   THE    NEWS  251 

combined  to  make  his  announcement  the  more  diffi- 
cult. But  he  did  not  flinch.  After  dinner,  when 
Primrose  walked  beside  him  in  the  garden,  he  told 
her. 

"Wish  me  joy,"  he  said.  "I've  long  wanted  to 
break  a  great  secret  to  you ;  but  she  wouldn't  let  me 
until  now.  Ilet  —  she's  going  to  marry  me.  Things 
happened  —  a  cruel,  deliberate  plot.  It  was  hatched 
out  of  the  fiery  love  of  that  poor  dead  man.  He  sepa- 
rated us  —  poor  chap  !  'Twas  no  fault  of  mine  —  or 
hers  —  and  God  He  knows  it.  All's  clear  between 
us  now ;  and  when  I  could  love  her  again,  instantly 
my  heart  began  to  do  it.  You'll  understand  —  so 
swift  and  quick  as  you  are." 

"  I  understand,"  she  said. 

He  wanted  to  praise  Primrose,  but  felt  that  he  dared 
not. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered.     "  I  knew  you  would." 

Her  eyes  contracted  and  he  saw  her  mouth  become 
thin  and  the  lips  grow  narrow.  The  expression  thus 
produced  was  new  to  him.  She  was  looking  at  the 
summer-house  wherein  he  had  kissed  her.  As  she 
looked,  she  put  up  her  hand  to  the  spot  where  his  lips 
had  pressed  her  face.  Then  she  gazed  steadfastly  at 
him  and  he  looked  away. 

"  A  dreadful  lie  came  between  me  and  that  woman," 
he  said.  "  A  cruel  lie  —  answered  for  now.  That's 
all  I've  a  right  to  tell." 

"  Is  it  all  that  I  have  a  right  to  ask  ?  " 

He  was  silent ;  then  a  smile  came  to  her  face.  This 
confession  had  been  no  surpassing  surprise  to  her. 
She  had  long  felt  it ;  she  had  long  known  that  he  cared 
nothing  for  her  now,  and  that  he  would  marry  Ilet  if 
he  could.  She  had  long  expected  this  utterance  and 
rather  wondered  at  the  delay  ;  yet  undying  hope  and 
her  own  passion  had  preserved  a  secret,  sanguine  under- 


252  THE   PORTREEVE 

current  running  through  her  mind.  Now  the  last  word 
was  spoken  and  he  had  proclaimed  himself.  He  had 
told  her  that  it  was  to  temptation  he  yielded,  not  to 
love ;  he  had  made  it  clear  that  mere  masculine  weak- 
ness under  provocation  had  brought  him  to  her  lips 
and  waist.  He  never  had  loved  her;  and,  not  loving, 
yet  had  kissed  her  and,  without  question,  had  meant 
to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  But  the  accident  of  Ilet's 
sudden  freedom  was  enough  to  shatter  all ;  and  now  — 
little  more  than  a  year  afterwards  —  he  acted  as  though 
those  moments  had  never  been. 

She  smiled  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Great  news  —  startling  news  for  some  of  us.  But 
you  will  be  late  for  your  Sunday-school  class.  Good- 
bye." 

He  understood  that  she  desired  him  to  be  gone. 
He  read  all  that  she  meant  into  her  words.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  still  and  meditated  rebellion.  She 
divined  his  thought  and  her  glance  turned  again  to  the 
arbour. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  and  left  her.  He  tried  to  hold 
up  his  head  and  step  out  as  usual ;  but  she  was  stand- 
ing and  watching  him,  and  he  felt  her  eyes  and  did  not 
attempt  to  pretend  indifference.  He  was  conscious 
that  the  thoughts  in  his  heart  affected  his  gait  and  lent 
a  meanness  to  it.  He  was  glad  to  get  out  of  her  sight. 
His  self-respect  received  a  painful  blow.  He  told  him- 
self that  it  must  be  many  days  before  it  returned  to  him 
whole.  He  poured  out  his  mind  on  Ilet.  Only  that  way 
justification  appeared.  He  kept  her  resolutely  at  the 
top  of  his  heart,  and  assured  himself  that  for  her  he 
would  have  done  the  same  a  thousand  times.  He  was 
defiant  with  himself  He  fell  into  a  rate  of  progress 
far  above  his  usual  speed  and  presently  overtook  some 
boys  on  the  way  to  Bridgetstowe.  According  to  his 
custom,  he  improved  the  occasion  and  tried  to  impart 


BREAKING   THE   NEWS  253 

a  high  principle  or  two,  But  the  words  sounded  gro- 
tesque for  the  moment,  and  he  had  fallen  into  silence 
before  the  school-house  was  reached. 

As  for  Primrose  Horn,  she  stood  quite  still  and 
watched  him  out  of  sight.  Then  she  turned  to  the 
house  and  ascended  to  her  own  room.  She  threw  ofF 
her  hat  and  jacket,  looked  at  the  bed  but  did  not 
press  ito  Instead  she  began  to  tramp  slowly  up  and 
down  —  as  she  had  tramped  when  waiting  for  Wolfer- 
stan  on  the  day  of  the  death  of  Brown  Boy.* 

Deep  within  progressed  the  alchemy  of  a  changing 
passion.  The  love  she  had  borne  him  —  albeit  of  a 
temper  never  fine — now  melted,  and  the  red  hot 
vessel  of  her  heart  held  its  products  of  raging  hate  and 
scorno  There  was  nothing  to  leaven  the  venom  of 
this  transmuted  emotion.  No  act  of  hers  justified  his 
defection  or  excused  it ,  for  he  was  wholly  ignorant  of 
her  part  in  the  past.  She  despised  the  thing  she 
loathed ;  and  she  despised  herself  for  loving  him  so 
long,  for  the  shifts  and  artifices,  for  the  plots  and  subtle 
snares.  They  had  made  the  salt  of  her  life  through 
years.  What  would  life  be  without  them  ?  She 
could  not  live  without  them.     They  must  continue. 

Up  and  down  she  tramped ;  then  her  thoughts  con- 
centrated and  weighed  her  down  into  a  motionless  posi- 
tion.    She  sat  by  the  window  and  stared  out  at  the  world. 

Her  resolution  came  swiftly  and  completely  armed. 
Nothing  was  changed  save  the  point  of  view.  She  had 
pursued  this  man  for  love^  and  she  had  captured  himo 
Her  part  had  been  effectually  and  successfully  per- 
formed. Failure  resulted  from  no  fault  of  herSo  The 
prey  had  been  untrue  to  himself —  so  she  explained 
it.  At  the  critical  point  of  the  chase,  he  had  escaped 
her  by  a  metamorphosis  of  character.  He  had  sunk 
into  dishonour  and  evaded  his  obligations  as  a  man. 

She    followed    the    metaphor    in    her    mind ;    she 


254  THE   PORTREEVE 

rose  and  tramped  again.  The  insulted  dignity  of  sex 
stormed  in  her.  Her  beauty,  affection,  tact,  histrionic 
genius  —  all  were  overturned,  ignored,  trampled  upon 
by  the  clumsy,  callous  hoof  of  a  boor.  For  a  boor  he 
was  in  this ;  and  in  his  shame-faced  confession  and 
sneaking  exit. 

She  thought  of  his  future  wife  without  envy  and 
without  anger.  That  she  could  not  hate  Ilet  inter- 
ested her.  She  supposed  that  it  was  because  a  heart 
can  only  be  full  of  hate.  The  flood  and  volume  of 
her  wrath  was  released  to  drown  one  man.  Not  a  drop 
remained  for  any  other  soul.  Again  her  passion  made 
her  sit  very  still.  Every  atom  of  energy  was  poured 
into  the  dynamic  action  of  thinking.  It  subtracted 
from  the  full  throb  and  thrust  of  her  brain  to  move 
hand  or  foot.  Even  her  eyes,  albeit  they  moved,  were 
turned  inward  and  saw  not  the  thing  actually  reflected 
in  them. 

A  revenge  great  enough  for  this  unutterable  wrong 
was  the  object  of  her  search,  and  she  did  not  despair  of 
finding  it.  It  would  be  necessary  to  begin  all  over 
again.  Another  struggle  like  that  of  the  past  lay 
before  her.  But  it  promised  to  be  easier.  She  felt 
that  the  destruction  of  a  man  might  not  be  so  difficult 
as  the  winning  of  him.  After  two  hours  alone,  a  long- 
ing came  into  her  mind  to  speak  about  Wolferstan,  to 
hear  other  people  discuss  him,  to  spread  the  news  of 
his  forthcoming  marriageo  She  became  anxious  to 
learn  opinions  upon  it. 

Her  wish  in  this  respect  was  gratified  sooner  than 
Primrose  expected,  for  Orlando  Slanning  called  pres- 
ently and,  seeing  him  approach  the  house,  she  smoothed 
her  face  and  drove  her  thoughts  away  from  her  eyes. 

Presently  she  sat  at  the  tea-table  with  the  young 
man  and  Mrs.  Horn.  But  her  father  was  no  tea 
drinker  and  did  not  appear. 


BREAKING   THE    NEWS  255 

She  was  impressed  secretly  with  her  own  perfect  self- 
control  when  Dodd  Wolferstan's  name  arose.  So 
people  speak  at  first  of  the  sudden  dead.  Not  until 
the  change  is  driven  home  and  apprehended  for  a  part 
and  parcel  of  things  as  they  are,  do  heart  and  courage 
fail,  and  love  claims  its  due  of  broken  words  and  sleep- 
less sorrow. 

Orlando  first  mentioned  the  Portreeve  and  Mrs. 
Horn  replied  to  him. 

"  We  differ,"  she  said.  "  Seldom  enough  do  I 
differ  from  my  own  ;  but  in  the  matter  of  Mr.  Wolfer- 
stan.  Primrose  and  I  do  not  think  alike.  I  cannot 
admire  his  character  as  much  as  she  does." 

"  He  gets  on  like  a  house  on  fire,"  said  Slanning. 

"  He  does.  He  is  all  things  to  all  men.  I  fear 
there  must   be  some  winking  at  honesty  sometimes." 

"  Too  many  irons  in  the  fire,  if  you  ask  me,"  an- 
swered the  youth.  "  He'll  come  a  howler  some  day. 
You  don't  see  him  so  often  as  you  did,  Mr.  Horn 
tells  me." 

"  I  cannot  honestly  say  that  I  miss  him.  There's 
a  lot  in  breeding,  Mr.  Orlando.  If  we  in  this  house 
don't  know  that,  who  should  ?  And  what  holds  of 
dumb  beasts,  holds  of  thinking  humans.  Not  a  word 
against  the  man's  father  would  I  say,  and  him  in  his 
grave;  but  the  fact  remains  that  he  was  a  hedge- 
mender,  and  it's  not  possible  for  the  cleverest  young 
man  among  us  to  go  outside  the  blood  in  his  veins. 
I   speak  it  in  all  charity,  I'm  sure." 

"  He  will  be  married  before  long,"  said  Primrose 
calmly ;  and  both  her  hearers  started. 

"  Good  gracious,  my  dear  !  The  things  you  say 
so  quietly  !     *  Married  '  !     Who  ever  to  ?  " 

"  Need  you  ask  that  ?  Abel  Pierce's  widow.  What 
was  she  called  ?     *  Ilet,'  I  think." 

Both   the  mother  and  lover  were  quite  overcome, 


256  THE    PORTREEVE 

and  each  was  busy  with  a  similar  reflection.  Mrs. 
Horn  found  a  wave  of  sympathy  strike  her  dumb. 
She  believed  that  she  knew  a  good  deal  of  what  lay  in 
the  mind  behind  her  child's  smiling  face.  But  it 
seemed  not  possible  to  speak  of  that  now.  She  kept 
silence  and  then  began  to  cry.  A  moment  later  she 
rose  and  abruptly  left  the  room.  She  wept  awhile  in 
private  and  the  tears  of  sorrow  for  Primrose  presently 
ran  into  tears  of  joy  for  herself.  The  girl  must  swiftly 
recover  from  her  disappointment,  and  this  crushed 
hope  would  be  thrown  aside  and  obstruct  the  path 
of  her  future  no  more.  She  burnt  with  indignation 
when  she  thought  upon  the  faithless  Portreeve,  yet  was 
filled  with  thanksgiving  that  he  had  proved  faithless. 

"  Forgive  dear  mother,"  said  Miss  Horn  upon  her 
parent's  departure;  "any  sudden  thing  like  that  upsets 
her.  She  is  as  sensitive  as  an  aspen  leaf.  We  have 
known  Mr.  Wolferstan  rather  well  for  a  good  many 
years  now.     This  was  not  expected  by   her." 

"  Or  anybody  —  surely  ?  " 

"  I  expected  it." 

"  You  —  of  all  people  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Well  —  really  —  I  thought  —  in  fact,  everybody 
thought.  Thank  the  Lord  everybody  thought  wrong, 
anyhow." 

She  nodded. 

"  I  understand  you,"  she  said. 

"  As  for  me,  I'll  never  hate  him  again  —  never. 
I'll  be  the  first  to  congratulate  him,"  declared  Orlando. 

«  Yes  ? " 

"  Such  a  weight  off  a  chap's  mind  —  like  waking 
from  a  nightmare.  Hearing  this,  I  can  forgive  the 
world.  He  certainly  said  ^  poor  Slanning,'  but  nothing 
matters  now.  I'd  forgiven  him  long  ago.  No  malice 
in  me  —  at  least,  not  much." 


BREAKING   THE    NEWS 


257 


She  regarded  him  intently,  but  said  nothing. 

Suddenly  a  dim  flash  of  the  truth  streaked  his 
cloudy  mind.  He  half  guessed  what  had  happened, 
but  shrank  from  hazarding  a  thought  so  delicate.  She 
spared  him  the  trouble. 

"  You  have  always  fancied  that  I  was  fond  of  that 
man,  Orlando  ?  " 

"  Only  my  infernal  jealousy,  I  dare  say ;  but  it's 
true :   I   did." 

"  You  were  perfectly  right.  I  was  fond  of  him,  and 
he  knew  it." 

"You  were  his  mascotte — his  luck.  All  things 
smiled  on  him  because  of  you." 

"  He  knew  it ;  he  found  out  I  cared  for  him  and 
took  advantage  of  it.  Once  he  put  his  arms  round 
me  and  kissed  me.  I  waited  for  him  to  speak.  He 
never    spoke.      Now    he    is    going    to  marry  another 


woman." 


"  Good  God  !  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  share  your  generous  praise  of  him. 
But  I'm  only  flesh  and  blood.      I  cannot." 

"Praise!     I'd  Hke  to  ...  I  will!" 

"  You  mustn't  champion  me.  That  would  be  ab- 
surd. The  days  of  champions  for  women  are  past. 
But   you   are  always  so  good." 

"  You  make  me  shake  and  burn,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
boiling  over.  I  can't  sleep  again  till  I've  horse- 
whipped that  man.  I  wish  to  God  I'd  not  helped  to 
get    him    the  secretaryship.     It's  too  late   to   stop  it 


now." 


She  smiled. 

"  Think  a  minute.  Why  not?  Don't  imagine  I'm 
a  saint,  Orlando.  We're  old  friends,  and  confession  is 
good  for  the  soul.  Why  regret  the  secretaryship  ? 
He  has  wronged  me  utterly ;  he  has  insulted  me ;  he 

has  scorned  me.     We  are  all  fools;  but " 

s 


258  THE    PORTREEVE 

She  broke  off  to  see  how  much  he  comprehended. 

"  The  man  that  dared  to  wrong  you  is  my  enemy  till 
I  die,"  he  said. 

"Don't  be  theatrical  about  it.  We  must  —  I  say 
'  we/  but  really  this  is  no  business  of  yours.  I've  no 
right  to  drag  you  in." 

"  Say  it  again,"  he  entreated.  "  It's  the  most  blessed 
word  that  I  ever  heard.  I'd  die  for  you.  If  it's 
theatrical,  I  can't  help  it.  It's  true  anyway.  Gladly 
I'd  die,  but  not  till  I've  paid  that  devil  for  daring  to 
put  his  cursed  hands  on  you." 

"  You're  a  man,  at  any  rate,"  she  said. 

"  Let  me  show  it.  Let  me  take  him  by  his  red 
throat,  and  disgrace  him  before  the  world,  and  shake 
the  life  out  of  him." 

"  I  hate  him  too  much  for  that,"  she  answered  calmly. 
"  Men  hunt  the  fox  and  hare  for  love,  the  weasel  for 
loathing.  Do  you  follow  me?  This  is  sport  —  sport 
in  earnest  —  with  hate  for  hounds.  I  hate  him  as 
never  a  woman  hated  a  man  before  this  hour.  My 
hate  is  my  life  —  waking  and  sleeping  for  evermore. 
Don't  be  rough  with  him.  Don't  spoil  the  sport.  Let 
him  have  fair  law.      I  shall  be  in  at  the  death." 

She  laughed  at  the  image,  and  Slanning's  eyes  grew 
large. 

"  I  am  glad  of  this  success.  He  must  go  higher  yet 
—  higher  and  higher  —  till  he's  worth  tumbling  down." 

"  By  Jove  —  I  see  !     What  a  wonder  you  are." 

She  stood  up  and  he  passed  out  of  her  sight.  She 
spoke  aloud,  but  not  to  him  ;  her  passion  throbbed, 
like  harsh  cymbals,  through  the  natural  melody  of  her 
voice. 

"  Let  his  cup  be  full  before  I  empty  it ;  let  his  joy 
wax  before  I  make  it  wane  ;  let  his  hopes  rise,  as  high 
as  heaven,  before  I  bury  them  in  dust  and  ashes.  My 
brain  shall  plan  it ;  my  hands  shall  do  it.     'Tis  worse 


BREAKING   THE   NEWS  259 

to  have  and  to  lose  —  as  I  have  —  than  never  to  have 
at  all.  Let  him  have  all  —  full  measure  —  and  lose 
all.  I'll  poison  his  joy  of  life  and  his  trust  in  man. 
I'll  go  deeper  yet  and  tear  the  religion  out  of  him  ! 
Even  that  I'll  do  —  till  he's  stranded,  naked,  ruined  — 
a  byword  for  gipsies  and  road-menders." 

"And  I'll  help  you,"  he  said. 

His  offer  sounded  ludicrous  —  like  a  little  child 
promising  to  assist  an  adult  in  some  hard  enterprise. 

"  You  want  a  man  to  drive  this  home  to  the  hilt," 
he  continued.  "  Let  me.  My  knowledge  of  the  world 
and  my  intelligence  will  jolly  soon  crush  him.  Let 
me  tackle  the  scoundrel.   Primrose.      I   implore  it." 

She  came  back  to  herself  slowly  and  made  as  though 
she  had  not  heard  his  offer. 

"  Go  now,"  she  said,  "  and  forget  you've  heard  an 
angry  woman.  What  play-actors  we  all  are  when  we 
get  cross  !  " 

"  Angry !  I'd  never  forgive  you  If  you  weren't 
angry." 

"  And  don't  meddle  with  a  hair  of  that  man's  head 
—  not  if  you  want  to  be  my  friend." 

He  promised  to  do  nothing  and  went  off  in  a  tem- 
pest of  rage ;  but  it  rang  largely  unreal.  The  true 
emotion  of  the  moment  for  him  was  jubilant  hope.  He 
could  not  hate  the  man  who  had  opened  the  door  of 
salvation.  Indeed,  there  was  little  genius  for  hatred 
in  Orlando's  nature.  He  remembered  Primrose's 
words  as  being  rather  awful ;  but  he  doubted  not  that 
she  would  cool  down  presently.  Meantime  she  had 
said  'we,'  and  that  was  the  syllable  stamped  in  his 
heart  henceforth.  He  took  it  with  him  and  cherished 
it  as  a  pearl  of  price. 

The  woman  from  whom  he  parted  knew  his  char- 
acter better  than  he  did  himself  She  weighed  him  in 
the  balance  of  thought  after  he  had  gone. 


26o  THE   PORTREEVE 

"What  he  couldn't  do  for  hate  of  the  man,  he  would 
do  for  love  of  me,"  she  thought.  "  But  there's  time 
enough  to  think  of  that." 

Then  rage  caught  her  up  again  in  a  whirlwind,  as 
she  thought  of  the  wasted  years  and  her  altered  life  and 
wrecked  ambitions.  Anger  did  not  distort  her  face 
but  hardened  it  to  stone.  She  looked  out  at  nature 
for  a  while  and  her  breast  heaved  and  her  fingers  were 
laced  together.  They  locked  and  unlocked  awhile. 
Then  she  returned  to  her  own  chamber  and  saw  neither 
man  nor  woman  again  that  day. 

In  the  morning  she  was  so  completely  herself  and 
so  cheerful  of  demeanour,  that  her  father,  who  had 
heard  the  truth  from  his  wife,  doubted  the  facts 
and  felt  glad  to  think  that  Mrs.  Horn  must  be  mis- 
taken. 


CHAPTER   XII 

*JOY    GO    WITH    YOU,    AND    TWOPENCE* 

NOW  returned  October  and  the  light,  growing  daily- 
feebler  as  the  sun  declined,  became  at  once 
glorified  and  weakened  by  intermingling  with 
the  humours  of  earth.  The  leaf  fell,  robins  called ; 
sweetness  of  fruit  hung  heavy  on  the  opal  air ;  the 
moths,  that  in  high  summer  awaited  twilight,  now 
danced  at  noon  and  sucked  their  last  nectar  from 
autumnal  flowers. 

On  such  a  day  there  came  to  the  house  of  Wolfer- 
stan  a  brief  procession  which  seemed  small  by  com- 
parison with  the  magnitude  of  the  local  joy  displayed 
in  the  Portreeve's  honour. 

From  the  church,  after  he  was  wedded,  he  walked 
with  his  wife's  hand  in  his  ;  laughed,  nodded,  blushed  ; 
tried  to  scrape  the  rice  out  from  under  his  collar  ;  mar- 
velled at  the  distance  from  St.  Bridget's  to  his  own 
home. 

Little  banners  waved  across  the  way ;  flags  flew 
from  many  windows ;  garlands  were  displayed  else- 
where ;  and  the  bells  rang  bravely. 

Richard  Barkell  was  best  man.  He  walked  behind 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  with  Miss  Jane  Perryman. 
There  followed  Abner  Barkell,  Ned  Perryman,  a 
curate,  the  brothers  John  and  Thomas  Ball,  three 
married  men  and  their  wives  and  a  few  other  friends, 
including  Ilet's  Aunt  Susan  from  Sourton.  But  Mrs. 
Pierce  was  not  of  the  company.  She  no  longer  re- 
sented this  union  and  in  secret  it  even  gladdened  her 

261 


262  THE    PORTREEVE 

heart  somewhat,  because  Hfe  had  narrowed  for  her  to 
the  tiny  dimensions  of  her  dead  son's  infant  daughter. 
With  secret  cunning  she  looked  forward  and  foresaw  a 
time  when  circumstances  might  place  the  child's  con- 
trol largely  in  her  hands. 

Wolferstan  was  leaving  Bridgetstowe  at  Christmas, 
because  Okehampton  offered  a  wider  field  and  greater 
possibilities  of  advancement. 

"  'Tis  a  wonderful  and  anxious  state  seemingly," 
said  the  maiden,  Jane,  as  she  walked  beside  Dicky. 

"  So  it  is  by  all  accounts,  but  it  has  compensations, 
according  to  those  that  are  in  it.  Though  whether 
that's  true  or  merely  said  to  excuse  their  own  silliness 
for  walking  into  it  —  who  knows  ?  " 

"  Childer's  the  chiefest  trouble,  I  should  reckon," 
she  said. 

"  No  doubt  at  all ;  but  us  mustn't  speak  of  sage 
and  onions  to  a  goose.  Wouldn't  be  kind.  You  an' 
me  in  our  wisdom  will  bide  a  spinster  and  a  bachelor, 
however." 

He  laughed  as  he  spoke  and  looked  back  at  the 
curly-headed,  calf-eyed  young  man  known  as  Johnny 
Ball. 

"  As  to  that "  she  answered  ;  but  could  get  no 

further. 

They  reached  the  distorted  ash  that  twisted  above 
the  Portreeve's  gate.  To-day  it  flamed  with  scarlet 
berries  brighter  than  any  of  the  bunting  that  hung 
beside  it.  Soon  the  wedding  feast  began  and  the  curate 
asked  a  blessing  on  it.  He  belonged  to  the  people, 
and  with  a  fine  wisdom,  rare  in  curates,  clove  to  them, 
made  of  them  his  friends  and  shared  their  interests  and 
pleasures. 

"  There's  a  startling  bit  of  news  come  to  my  ear," 
said  Wolferstan  to  Dicky  Barkell  when  the  men 
smoked  their  pipes  in  his  vegetable  garden  after  the 


JOY    GO    WITH    YOU,    AND    TWOPENCE         263 

banquet.  "  Strange  it  should  happen  to-day.  You 
know  the  ins  and  outs  of  me  so  close,  Richard,  that 
you'll  understand  how  strange  it  is.  Young  Mr, 
Slanning  of  '  Slanning's  '  is  going  to  marry  Miss  Horn." 

"  Ah  !  you're  lucky  then  :  you'll  have  one  enemy 
instead  of  two,"  said  the  signalman  drily.  "  For 
husband  and  wife  are  one,  if  all  we  hear  be  true." 

"  Enemies  !  What  d'you  mean  ?  'Tis  the  best 
news   I've   heard  this   many  days." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  pleased,  old  chap." 

"  Surely  the  supreme  happiness  of  marriage " 

"*  Happiness '  ?  How  can  that  be  when  brains 
marry  a  fool  ?  "  asked  Barkell. 

It  chanced  that  I  let,  in  the  garden  with  Jane  Perry- 
man,  overheard  him. 

"  Don't  say  you  be  talking  of  us,  Mr.  Barkell !  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  only  speaking 
in  general  terms.  My  argument  is  that  there  can't  be 
much  happiness  if  a  clever  woman  takes  a  fool  to  her 
husband." 

"  You  speak  in  ignorance,"  declared  his  father  ;  "  a 
clever  woman  and  a  dull  man's  a  very  good  marriage 
mixture,  and  I've  seen  it  work  very  well  —  with  love 
thrown  in  to  sweeten." 

"  What  !  Such  a  pair  as  Primrose  Horn  and  young 
Slanning? " 

"  Why  for  not  ?     If  he  obeys  her  in  everything." 

Wolferstan  nodded. 

"  He'll  do  that  for  certain.  I  know  her  pretty  well, 
and  him  too.  A  woman  of  great  strength  and  force  of 
character.  She  wouldn't  have  been  happy  with  a  man 
as  strong  as  herself.  Though  it  asks  for  a  strong  man 
to  be  stronger  than  she." 

He  turned  to  Ilet. 

"  We  must  think  of  a  wedding  present  for  them," 
he  said. 


264  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  Have  they  gived  you  one  ?  "  Inquired  Ned  Perry- 
man. 

Wolferstan  regretted  the  question  and  looked  a  little 
uneasy. 

"  Can't  say  they  have,"  he  answered. 

"  Perhaps  they  be  thinking,  like  you,  what  'tis  to 
be,"  said  Dicky. 

"  Anyway  she'll  have  the  brains  and  him  the  brass 
—  a  very  strong  combination  of  Providence,  no  doubt," 
declared  Ned. 

"  Let's  hope  they'll  use  their  high  gifts  in  a  Chris- 
tian manner,"  murmured  Johnny  Ball.  But  the 
younger  Barkell  was  perverse  and  persisted  in  his 
cheerless  prophecies. 

"  High  gifts  —  him  !  "  he  scoffed.  "  If  you  knowed 
him,  you  wouldn't  expect  any  such  thing.  His  highest 
gift  will  be  obedience ;  and  the  woman  knows  it ;  and 
that's  why  she's  taken  him.  Look  at  the  chap  — 
about  as  much  to  his  face  as  there  is  to  the  barber's 
dummy  in  Powlesland's  window  at  Okehampton ! 
Putty  painted  ! " 

"  If  he's  putty,  us'll  hope  she'll  mould  him  into  a 
proper  vessel  for  the  Lord's  work,"  said  Johnny. 

"  A  good-hearted  creature,  however,"  declared  Tom 
Ball.  "  To  my  knowledge  he  gives  that  old  ancient 
huntsman,  Harry  French,  half-a-crown  a  week  out  of 
his  private  purse,  out  of  regard  for  the  sport  Harry 
used  to  show  in  his  fox-hunting  days." 

"  To  his  credit  for  certain,"  admitted  Barkell.  "  But 
whatever  are  we  all  talking  about,  when  we've  got  a 
bride  and  groom  of  our  own  amongst  us  ? " 

An  hour  later  husband  and  wife  drove  off  to  the 
railway  station.  They  were  going  for  three  days  to 
Exeter. 

The  little  party  clustered  round,  and  Mr.  Perryman, 
by  virtue  of  seniority,  threw  the  shoe. 


'JOY    GO    WITH    YOU,    AND    TWOPENCE'       265 

He  was  red  and  excited  with  brown  sherry.  His 
thin  beard  floated  about  him  and  his  eyes  sparkled. 

"Joy  go  with  you  — and  twopence  !  "  he  cried  in  a 
high-pitched  voice,  while  men  and  women's  voices 
echoed  the  old  wish. 

Then  Ned  flung  the  shoe  and  it  struck  the  back  of 
the  closed  fly  with  a  bang.  Thereupon  Tommy  Ball 
picked  it  up  and  flung  it  into  the  window  as  the  carriage 
moved. 

*'  Where's  her  child  to  ? "  asked  a  woman  of  the 
party. 

"  Along  with  her  first's  mother,"  answered  Jane 
Ferryman. 


Book    III 


CHAPTER    I 

THE    CUT    DIRECT 

VARIOUS  causes  contributed  to  decide  Dodd 
Wolferstan  upon  a  change  of  home.  Therefore 
he  had  taken  a  house  at  Okehampton  and  de- 
signed to  occupy  it  as  soon  as  possible.  He  also 
began  to  think  of  a  little  land  in  that  neighbourhood, 
but  his  wife  and  he  differed  somewhat  concerning  the 
uses  to  which  this  ground  should  be  put.  He  much 
desired  to  build  a  cottage  or  two  and  find  himself  an 
owner  and  landlord,  if  only  in  a  small  way  ;  she  re- 
minded him  of  the  great  prosperity  of  his  little  market 
garden  at  Bridgetstowe,  and  urged  him  to  pursue  the 
familiar  operations  on  a  larger  scale  at  Okehampton. 
His  reason  inclined  him  to  listen  to  her;  his  ambition 
turned  towards  bricks  and  mortar  as  a  greater  thing. 
The  matter  was  in  abeyance,  as  the  lease  of  four  acres 
of  land  in  the  vale  of  the  Oke  and  distant  a  mile  from 
the  town,  was  doubtful,  and  the  owner  set  his  face 
against  cottages ;  while  Dodd  knew  that  to  build  any 
other  sort  of  dwelling  in  that  secluded  valley  would  be 
vain. 

There  came  a  winter  day  when  Wolferstan  pursued 
his  business  in  Okehampton  and  met  Dicky  Barkell 
on  his  way  to  the  station.  The  Portreeve  proceeded 
with  him  ;  but  Dicky's  news  caused  him  to  change  his 
mind,  and  presently  he  left  his  friend  and  returned  to 
the  town. 

The  matter  related  to  Primrose  Horn,  for  Orlando 

269 


270  THE    PORTREEVE 

Slanning's  father,  who  still  lingered  alive,  had  an- 
nounced the  wish  that  his  son  might  at  once  be  mar- 
ried and  proceed  to  his  work  at  the  mill. 

Mrs.  Horn  had  prevailed  with  her  daughter  to 
consent  and  the  Vvcdding  would  take  place  at  Bridget- 
stowe  in  three  weeks. 

Wolferstan  was  much  interested  by  this  information  ; 
it  served  also  to  render  him  uneasy.  Only  once  since 
his  own  marriage  had  he  met  Alexander  Horn  on 
business,  but  the  farmer  revealed  a  marked  change 
of  attitude  and,  their  ajffairs  concluded,  they  had  parted 
without  the  usual  cordiality  on  the  part  of  the  elder 
man.  Since  then  -Wolferstan  had  only  seen  the  Bow- 
den  folk  at  church.  They  did  not  call  upon  his  wife ; 
and  they  did  not  ask  him  to  bring  her  to  the  farm. 
He  waited  and  hoped  for  this  invitation,  but  fruitlessly. 
Ilet  was  indifferent  and  had  urged  him,  if  only  as  a 
matter  of  worldly  wisdom,  to  ignore  the  slight  and  go 
himself;  but  this  was  impossible,  for  more  reasons  than 
he  imparted  to  his  wife. 

Now,  however,  an  opportunity  offered  to  act,  and 
though  none  at  Bowden  had  thought  proper  to  inform 
him  of  the  coming  event,  Wolferstan  nevertheless  saw 
his  way  clear.  He  had,  indeed,  long  determined  on 
his  attitude  when  the  wedding  of  Primrose  Horn 
should  be  announced.  Ilet  supported  him  in  his  in- 
tention. Secretly  he  still  hoped  that  an  invitation  to 
the  ceremony  might  reach  them  ;  but  his  hope  was 
slight. 

Leaving  Barkell,  he  returned  to  the  town,  visited  a 
silversmith  of  his  acquaintance  and,  after  some  delib- 
eration, purchased  a  handsome  silver  butter-dish  and 
paid  three  pounds  for  it.  He  then  proceeded  to  the 
'  White  Hart'  Inn,  ordered  a  mutton  chop  and  a  pint 
of  beer,  and  sat  down  to  concoct  a  letter. 

The  composition  proved  difficult  and  his  chop  was 


THE    CUT    DIRECT  271 

cold  and  his  liquor  flat  before  he  completed  the 
work. 

Thus  he  wrote  to  Primrose  Horn:  — 

"  Dear  Miss  Horn, 

"  Will  you  allow  an  old  friend,  and  one  who  can  never 
forget  all  he  owes  to  your  dear  father  and  your  mother  and 
yourself,  to  send  you  from  his  wife  and  himself  a  trifling 
memento  of  the  great  event  soon  to  happen  in  your  life  ? 
With  all  my  heart  and  soul  I  wish  you  joy  and  happiness  and 
contentment.  Mr.  Slanning  deserves  you,  for  he  has  a  big, 
patient  heart  and  is  an  honourable  and  upright  man  and  a  good 
sportsman. 

"  May  God  bless  you  both  and  crown  your  lives  with 
prosperity  and  continued  happiness  is  the  wish  of  your  most 
sincere  and  true  friend  always, 

"  DODD    WOLFERSTAN." 

He  made  a  parcel  of  the  letter  and  the  butter-dish, 
fitted  them  into  a  cardboard  box,  and  presently  de- 
spatched it.  Then,  by  an  odd  coincidence,  five  min- 
utes after  leaving  the  post-office,  he  ran  full  upon 
Primrose  Horn  and  her  mother  in  the  Okehampton 
Arcade.  The  younger  woman  turned  a  shade  paler 
than  usual  and  her  bright  eyes  shone  steadfastly  into 
Wolferstan's ;  but  there  was  not  one  shadow  of  recog- 
nition in  the  look.  Her  mother  fluttered  and  rustled 
somewhat  —  like  a  reed  in  the  wind.  Mrs.  Horn's 
breath  left  her  lips  with  an  expiration  that  conveyed  in 
its  sound  acute  dislike,  and  she  did  not  look  at  the 
man  as  she  passed.     Dodd  had  taken  off^  his  hat  and 

said,  "What  a  strange "      But  there  he  stopped, 

for  the  women  had  gone  and  their  backs  were  already 
towards  him.  He  heard  Miss  Horn  say,  "  Now  the 
baker's,  mother,"   in  a  tone  absolutely  indiff'erent. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  still,  then  put  on  his  hat 
and  hastened  away,  hopeful  that  nobody  had  seen  the 
incident. 


272  THE    PORTREEVE 

But  his  stride  lagged  as  he  cHmbed  to  the  station, 
and  by  the  time  he  had  returned  to  Bridgetstowe, 
Dodd  was  in  a  very  depressed  state  of  mind.  His 
wife  met  him  at  the  station  in  a  little  dog-cart,  and  as 
she  drove  him  home  he  explained,  and  expressed  regret 
that  she  should  have  had  to  wait  for  a  second  train. 
He  then  related  the  events  of  the  day,  hesitated  only 
when  he  came  to  the  meeting  with  Mrs.  Horn  and 
her  daughter,  but  finally  described  the  occurrence  as 
it  took  place. 

Ilet  was  much  surprised. 

"  Then  'tis  all  explained  what  you  thought.  They 
haven't  forgiven  you  for  taking  me  instead  of  her, 
Dodd." 

"  I'm  afraid  not." 

"  I  wish  it  had  happened  afore  you  sent  that  rich 
gift.     'Tis  very  unreasonable  in  them." 

The  man  had  never  told  his  wife  all  the  truth  con- 
cerning Primrose,  yet,  at  this  moment  of  dejection,  it 
was  strongly  in  his  mind  to  do  so.  It  had  not  before 
seemed  necessary,  but  in  the  light  of  these  events  the 
necessity  grew.  Ilet  would  be  puzzled  and  indignant 
so  long  as  he  reserved  the  actual  facts.  He  regretted 
not  having  told  her  sooner,  but  for  the  moment  felt 
averse  from  it.  That  she  must  now  know  seemed 
clear,  but  he  put  off  the  recital. 

"  Say  nothing  to  anybody,"  he  answered.  "  'Tis 
not  so  surprising  to  me  as  to  you.  We'll  speak  of  it 
another  time.  Only  mind  this  :  the  blame's  not  all 
on  their  side." 

"  That  I  won't  believe,  my  dear,  though  'tis  like 
you  to  find  excuses  for  them.  The  insult's  theirs  — 
along  of  jealousy  that  you  didn't  take  her.  Like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  they  reckoned  you  was  going  to  do 
it.  You  kept  your  own  counsel  as  the  way  of  the 
strong  man  is.     D'you  think  I  don't  know  you  ?    The 


THE    CUT   DIRECT  273 

soul  of  honour  and  uprightness.  Never  a  shadow  of 
right  did  you  give  that  woman.  If  you  said  so  with 
your  own  Hps,  I  wouldn't  believe  you." 

Here  was  the  easy  opportunity  to  speak,  but  still 
he  let  it  go. 

"  I'm  long  ways  short  of  the  man  you  think  me, 
Ilet.     A  very  weak,  erring  chap." 

"  Don't  be  downcast.  The  loss  is  theirs,  not  yours. 
We  all  know  what  you've  done  one  way  and  another 
for  Farmer  Horn.  I'll  teach  you  to  have  a  cheerfuller 
conceit  of  yourself  some  day." 

"  Never,"  he  answered.  "  Life's  beginning  to  knock 
that  out  of  me  already." 

Within  four  and  twenty  hours  the  matter  had  moved 
another  stage,  and  the  attitude  of  Alexander  Horn's 
family  was  defined  by  the  master  of  Bowden  himself. 
He  spoke  few  words,  but  they  were  to  the  point  and 
made  his  view  sufficiently  clear. 

It  happened  that  on  the  line  again  next  day,  Wolfer- 
stan  found  himself  In  a  third-class  smoking-carriage 
alone  with  the  farmer.  Horn  was  engaged  with  a  news- 
paper and  merely  glanced  up  as  his  old  servant  entered. 
Then,  without  any  sign  of  recognition,  he  pursued  his 
reading. 

This  was  more  than  Wolferstan  could  endure.  He 
crossed  the  carriage,  sat  in  front  of  the  other  and 
spoke. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Horn,  but  there's  nought 
like  an  understanding,  and  you're  not  the  man  to  deny 
that  to  the  humblest  of  us.  Yesterday  your  wife  and 
daughter  cut  me  in  the  public  street.  To-day  you  do 
the  same  here.  How  does  it  stand  between  us,  if  I 
may  make  bold  to  ask  it  ?  When  I  was  married,  you 
neither  wished  me  well,  nor  sent  one  line  about  it. 
Your  ladles  never  came  to  see  my  wife  ;  and  though  I 


2  74  THE    PORTREEVE 

waited  and  hoped  that  I  might  bring  her  to  Bowden, 

they  never Well  —  there  'tis.     Be  plain  an'   let 

me  know  what  I've  done." 

The  other  puffed  a  little,  but  from  anger,  not  un- 
easiness. 

"So  I  will  then  —  if  you  don't  know.  I  thought 
your  conscience  was  the  best  part  of  you.  You  passed 
for  a  straight  chap ;  but  you're  not  straight,  else  you 
wouldn't  ax  these  questions  and  try  to  bluff  a  man  old 
enough  to  be  your  father.  Answer  this,  and  swear 
afore  your  God  you'll  answer  true.  If  that  labouring 
man.  Pierce,  hadn't  died,  would  you  or  would  you  not 
be  married  to  my  girl  to-day?  Think  afore  you  speak. 
You're  on  oath,  mind." 

The  other  only  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  I  should,  sir,"  he  said. 

Horn  looked  at  him  ;  his  great  jowl  grew  red  and 
his  breath  came  fiercely. 

"  Then  how  do  you  dare  to  sit  there  and  ope  your 
mouth  to  me  —  her  father  ?  You  don't  deserve  the 
good  word  of  any  honest  man.  Church-going ! 
Teaching  in  Sunday-school !  Never  you  raise  your 
eyes  to  mine  again,  or  hope  one  good  word  from  me, 
for  you  won't  get  it." 

Wolferstan  bowed  his  head  and  made  no  answer. 
At  the  next  station  he  left  the  carriage  and  entered 
another. 

When  he  went  home  in  the  evening,  he  found  his 
butter-dish  and  letter  returned  to  him  unopened  from 
Bowden. 

That  night  he  spoke  to  his  wife,  when  they  had 
gone   to  bed,  and  told  her  all. 

"  You  thought  yesterday  I  was  ill-used,  sweetheart. 
You  were  wrong.  I've  only  got  my  deserts.  'Tis 
bitter  to  have  the  cold  truth  driven  home,  like  Alex- 
ander Horn   drove  it  to-day;  but  'twould  be  bitterer 


THE    CUT    DIRECT  275 

yet  to  go  on  living  with  a  doubt  between  me  an'  you. 
I  don't  know  what  you'll  say  or  do  ;  but  afore  I  sleep 
I'll  tell  you  everything." 

"  Yes,  Dodd." 

"  The  day  poor  Abel  died  I  was  at  Bowden.  I  and 
Miss  Horn  were  in  the  summer-house  together,  out  of 
the  storm,  and  that's  where  Dicky  Barkell  found  me." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  let,  I'd  given  up  all  hope  of  you  then.  God 
knows,  when  you  took  Pierce  I  never  harboured  an 
evil  thought.  You'd  gone,  past  recall,  and  I  only 
loved  you  as  we  love  the  dead.  For  a  long  time  it 
had  been  borne  in  on  me  how  proper  it  would  be  for 
me  to  take  Primrose  Horn,  She'd  made  it  clear 
enough  that  she  liked  me,  and  her  parents  expected  it. 
I'd  gone  on  slowly  with  her  till  I  felt  I'd  make  her  a 
good  husband,  if  no  more.  I  let  myself  be  weak  with 
her.  I  wanted  her  body  and  I  reckoned  her  soul  was 
only  asleep  and  would  wake  up  come  presently.  When 
Richard  ran  that  day,  I  was  going  to  ask  her  to  marry 
me.  'Twas  done  —  all  but  the  words.  You  were 
dead,  mind  —  dead  for  me.  I  was  as  good  as  engaged 
to  her  when  the  message  from  your  dying  husband 
reached  me.  Ilet,  I  had  kissed  her.  Then  the  whole 
world  changed  and  I  suffered  a  good  deal  in  doubt  of 
my  duty.  Anything  less  than  you  I  should  have  con- 
quered. Even  you  I  had  conquered.  The  battle  was 
fought  and  lost  —  or  won,  according  to  the  point  of 
view.  Then  God  sent  you  to  me  in  Black  Tor  Copse, 
and  I  saw  what  He  meant  —  at  least  —  yes  —  what 
He  meant.  But  if  I  hadn't  met  you  at  that  moment, 
I  should  have  gone  to  Bowden  and  finished  what  I'd 
begun  so  long  before.  Thank  Heaven  you  came.  But 
don't  misunderstand  the  Horns.  They've  every  right 
to  despise  me.  There's  nothing  to  be  said.  I  thought 
I  had  done  right.     I  don't  know  now.     Speak,  Ilet." 


276  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Right  or  wrong,  it  is  done ;  and  right  or  wrong, 
you  did  it  for  love  of  me,  Dodd." 

"  That's  no  excuse  if  'twas  wrong." 

"  To  you  it  mayn't  be  ;  to  me  it  is  all  the  excuse  I 
want.  What  be  all  the  world  compared  to  you?  Your 
good's  mine.  If  you  was  wrong,  you're  only  human 
and  can't  be  faultless  to  the  whole  world,  though  you 
are  to  me.      Live  it  down." 

"  They'll  never  forgive  me." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  She  won't." 

"  You've  got  me  on  your  side,  however ;  and  your 
own  character." 

They  often  fell  asleep  hand  in  hand.  He  took  her 
hand  now  and  gave  a  long  sigh. 

"  I'm  a  weak  worm  for  all  my  prosperity  and  power 
of  getting  on.  Why  didn't  I  tell  you  this  before .''  I 
owed  it  to  you  in  honour.  Yet  I  kept  it  bottled  up 
like  a  coward,  till  'twas  forced  from  me." 

She  did  not  answer.  She  was  thinking  of  the  Im- 
mense love  he  must  have  had  for  her,  to  wrong  another 
woman  thus  on  her  account.  It  was  a  love  larger  than 
his  sense  of  honour. 

Her  own  love  flamed  up  for  him. 

"  God  forbid  as  I  should  say  one  word  against  you. 
I'm  proud  of  you  and  I  worship  the  earth  you  walk 
on,  for  the  greatness  of  your  love  to  me.  I  wronged 
you  worse  than  ever  you  wronged  her  ;  I  played  with 
you  crueller  than  ever  you  played  with  her.  Let  her 
go  to  the  man  who  be  going  to  marry  her.  She'll  for- 
give presently  when  life  works  with  her.  An'  if  she 
don't,  who  cares  ?  'Tis  you  an'  me  against  the  world, 
an'  we're  strong  enough." 

"  I  say  to  myself  that  I  ought  to  be  punished. 
What  shall  I  do  to  punish  myself?  I  thought  that 
you'd  be  my  punishment  to-night.     I   braced  myself 


THE    CUT    DIRECT  277 

to    hear    you    speak     hard    things,     Ilet;    but    you 

d> ,  >> 
on  t. 

"Who  be  I  to  judge  you?  I  am  you.  If  you're 
sad  about  it,  so  am  1.  If  you're  shamed,  so  am  I. 
We're  one." 

"  I  deserve  harsh  words  and  you  make  love  to  me." 

"  Live  it  down  as  you  Hved  down  worse  things. 
Be  yourself." 

"  'Tis  bad  advice,  for  I'm  a  poor  thing.  I'll  try  and 
be  better  than  myself,  Ilet.  I'll  go  to  God  with  this 
an'  let  Him  put  in  my  heart  what  I  should  do." 

"  He'll  forgive  you.  If  you've  got  the  God  you  set 
such  store  by  —  and  me  —  what  else  be  going  to  hurt 
you  r 

"  I  must  get  right  with  my  conscience,  Ilet." 

"  D'you  mean  you  did  wrong  then  ?  " 

"  Not  that.  I'll  never  say  I  did  wrong  to  marry 
you  —  an  angel  from  heaven  that  you  are  —  but  I  did 
wrong  to  think  of  marrying  her.  Yes,  without  a  doubt 
I  wronged  her." 

"  Well,  you  wronged  her  in  a  way  that  can't  be  put 
right  now,  so  you'd  best  to  go  on  with  your  life  and 
be  patient." 

"  To  be  patient  will  be  the  punishment." 

"  Don't  forget  me  neither.  I  can  do  much,  maybe, 
in  this.  We  shall  meet  some  day.  She's  only  a  woman, 
after  all's  said.  She  might  be  a  mother  afore  the  year's 
out.  Then  we  shall  find  the  chance  to  do  her  good. 
The  least  get  a  chance  to  do  the  greatest  good  sooner 
or  late.  'Tis  only  the  quickness  to  see,  and  the  want 
to  do  the  good  be  generally  lacking." 

"  We  shall  have  the  quickness  and  the  want,"  he  said. 

Neither  had  taken  the  converse  position  into  thought ; 
neither  had  reflected  that  the  powerful  can  also  strike 
the  weak,  given  the  quickness  to  see  and  the  want  to  do 
harm.     Wolferstan   cast  about   how   to  atone  for  his 


278  THE    PORTREEVE 

wrong-doing  and  how  to  punish  himself  for  it.  That 
the  punishment  might  he  in  other  hands,  in  hands  much 
more  eager  to  inflict  punishment  than  he  would  prove 
to  endure  the  same,  had  not  occurred  to  him.  He 
could  not  see  the  right  penance ;  he  could  not  con- 
ceive of  any  possible  penance  in  the  light  of  Ilet's  love 
and  courage.  But  there  was  another  who  knew  him 
as  well  as  Ilet  in  many  particulars,  and  better  in  some. 
Her  knowledge  might  have  swiftly  enlightened  the 
Portreeve  as  to  where  he  would  be  found  most  vulner- 
able. 

Now  this  man,  largely  comforted,  pressed  his  wife's 
hand  and  sank  into  the  deep  silence  before  sleep.  He 
heard  her  eyelashes  on  the  pillow  and  knew  that  she 
still  opened  and  shut  her  eyes.  From  time  to  time  he 
felt  her  responsive  pressure  on  his  palm.  Then  he  fell 
into  slumber,  his  heart  not  unhappy,  for  the  confession 
to  Ilet  had  immensely  lightened  his  mind  and  her 
prompt  response  had  made  him  thankful  beyond  words 
and  very  prayerful.  He  was  praying,  lazily  and  hope- 
fully, when  he  became  unconscious. 

Presently  she  slipped  her  hand  from  his  and  turned 
round.  Sleep  was  as  yet  far  from  her.  She  traversed 
his  confession,  but  it  only  warmed  her  heart  to  him. 
Her  nature  was  above  all  things  generous,  and  the 
power  of  gratitude  belonged  to  it.  She  hungered  now 
to  take  this  grief  off  his  shoulders.  Many  plans  re- 
volved in  her  mind,  but  immediate  action  was  impos- 
sible. Her  child  moved  in  its  bed  beside  her,  gave  a 
little  yawn  and  then  was  still.  She  turned  again  to  her 
husband,  kissed  his  ear  gently  and  snuggled  close  be- 
side him.  She  was  glad  that  an  opportunity  had  come 
to  do  something  to  help  his  happiness.  Slowly  sleep 
mastered  her,  but  no  prayerfulness  touched  her  mind. 
She  began  to  think  of  little,  deft,  practical  beginnings 
towards  the  task  of  reinstating  her  husband  at  Bowden, 


THE    CUT   DIRECT 


279 


The  wedding  procession  would  drive  past  Wolferstan's 
house  on  its  way  to  and  from  church,  and  Ilet  won- 
dered if  they  might  venture  to  put  up  one  or  two  Httle 
flags  and  a  garland  at  their  gate,  as  a  sign  of  kindly 
thoughts. 

So  thinking,  she  fell  asleep.  Her  plans  were  all 
based  on  ignorance  of  the  truth.  She  had  never  in  her 
life  been  scorned  and  knew  not  what  such  an  experi- 
ence breeds  in  the  heart  of  the  proud.  Imagination 
can  but  faintly  picture  the  depth  and  height  of  that 
torment.     It  must  be  felt. 


CHAPTER   II 


A    LARGER    LIFE 


ITH  mingled  emotions  Wolferstan  resigned  his 
office  of  Portreeve  and  left  Bridgetstowe,  that 
he  might  enter  upon  the  larger  life  that  Oke- 
hampton  offered. 

His  house  was  high  up  on  the  hill  that  climbs  to 
Dartmoor  from  the  little  market  town  below.  Behind 
it  ran  the  road  to  the  artillery  camp  ;  before  it  spread 
the  expanses  of  North  Devon  crowned  with  cloud. 
Glorious  skies  sank  to  that  low  horizon,  and  all  the 
magic  of  dawns  and  sunsets  might  from  this  lofty  re- 
gion be  observed  by  those  who  had  leisure  or  love  to 
watch  the  pictures  of  the  air ;  but  for  Wolferstan  most 
of  his  time  was  spent  among  men,  or  upon  the  acres 
that  he  had  acquired  by  Oke  river,  in  the  valley  near 
the  ancient  ruins  of  Okehampton  castle. 

To  build  was  out  of  the  question  here,  and  as  only 
a  lease  of  years  could  be  secured,  Dodd  set  to  work  at 
his  former  occupation  of  market  gardening  and  per- 
ceived that  it  might  presently  be  possible  within  this 
sheltered  nook  to  produce  certain  crops  ahead  of  his 
less  fortunate  neighbours. 

On  Sundays  Ilet  and  he  sat  after  dinner  in  their 
little  verandah,  and  looked  down  upon  the  town  nes- 
tling far  beneath  them.  Then  Dodd  smoked  his  pipe 
and  built  trustfully  upon  the  shifting  foundations  of 
future  time. 

He  had  made  a  little  garden  for  Ilet,  but  few  things 

280 


A    LARGER    LIFE  281 

prospered  at  this  wind-blown  altitude,  and  the  yards 
of  heath  and  fern  that  he  had  cleared  about  the  dwell- 
ing were  presently  given  over  to  her  poultry.  They 
scraped  about  to  the  very  threshold  —  a  circumstance 
which  at  first  annoyed  Wolferstan  ;  but  finding  that 
the  fowls  of  richer  men  than  he  did  the  same,  he  ceased 
to  trouble  about  so  trivial  a  circumstance. 

"  This,  after  all,  is  only  a  temporary  home,"  he  said. 
"  Come  presently,  when  my  foot's  well  in  here  and 
I've  taken  my  stand  among  the  townspeople,  we'll  go 
down  the  hill  into  a  decent  house.  I've  got  my  eye 
on  Widow  Westcott's  already.  In  the  course  of  nature, 
she  might  be  dropping  off  just  when  I'm  ready  to 
buy." 

"  Why,  'tis  a  mansion,  Dodd  !  Ten  rooms  in  it,  if 
one." 

He  puffed  and  smiled. 

"  And  why  for  not  ?  But  no  hurry.  The  pigs  are 
coming  up  to-morrow,  and  they  can  run  on  the  hill 
and  cost  not  a  penny.  Then  the  shippon  will  do  very 
well  for  my  horses  —  I  must  begin  to  think  of  getting 
*  Rover '  in  fettle  again  for  the  Show.  He's  taken  first 
prize  two  year  running  now,  and  will  the  third  time  if 
I  know  anything." 

"  I  wish  you'd  suffer  me  to  let  our  front  rooms  in 
summer.  People  be  always  dropping  in  to  ax  if  we  can 
do  it,  and  'tis  throwing  away  good  money  to  refuse. 
There  was  some  military  gentleman  from  the  camp, 
come  with  the  last  battery,  who  called  only  yesterday." 

"  Once  for  all,  no;  and  don't  name  it  again,"  he  said 
sharply.  "  I  won't  do  nothing  peddling  of  that  sort. 
We're  past  that  now,  and  it  wouldn't  fit  in  at  all  with 
my  plans  and  projects.  People  judge  by  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  if  I  can  stand  for  ofiice  down-along  pres- 
ently, 'twould  be  brought  up  against  me  very  quick. 
There's  no  dignity  to  it,  Ilet.     Did  I  buy  the  piano  at 


282  THE    PORTREEVE 

Forde's  sale  for  strangers  to  play  on  ?  No.  *Twas 
that  your  little  one  should  learn  come  presently." 

"  As  for  dignity,"  she  answered,  "  there  ban't  much 
dignity  to  empty  rooms  that  might  be  fetching  a  pound 
a  week  —  all  profit.  But  since  you're  set  against  it, 
I'll  say  no  more,  my  dear." 

"  There's  other  things,"  he  continued.  "  I  don't 
want  to  live  for  nought  but  selfish  gain.  There's  the 
tithe,  Ilet.  I  can't  for  the  minute  put  out  a  tithe  of 
my  money  to  God's  service  ;  but  I  mean  to  make  it 
up  with  a  tithe  of  time.  I've  got  ideas  for  doing  good 
here  in  my  small  way.  I'm  going  to  start  a  man's 
club  — social.  For  meeting  of  an  evening  and  reading 
the  papers,  and  playing  a  game  of  bagatelle,  and  smok- 
ing our  pipes.  'Tis  a  great  enemy  of  the  public  house 
and  draws  young  chaps  —  especially  if  you  can  get 
gentlemen  to  drop  in  of  an  evening  and  give  'em  a 
lecture  nov/  and  then  and  enlarge  their  minds." 

"  'Tis  a  good  thought  and  will  rnake  people  respect 
you. 

"  I  hope  so.  Then  the  boys.  You  know  how  set  I 
am  on  catching  'em  young  and  training  them  aright." 

"  You'll  take  up  a  Sunday-school  class  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  for  certain.  And  I've  got  other  ideas  that 
only  want  working  out," 

"  I'll  help  heart  an'  hand  where  I  can,  Dodd." 

"  Well  I  know  it !  There's  no  quicker  way  to  make 
people  feel  kind  than  to  try  and  do  your  bit  of  good 
among  'em.  If  they  see  you  going  up  alone,  they  bide 
cold,  and  them  above  don't  offer  to  pull,  nor  them  be- 
hind to  push  ;  but  let  folk  find  you'm  big-hearted  and 
want  to  better  the  place  so  well  as  yourself,  then  they'll 
take  an  interest  and  be  friends  worth  having." 

"  You  come  with  all  men's  good  word  among  'em." 

He  shook  his  head  and  relapsed  into  momentary 
depression. 


A    LARGER    LIFE  283 

"  Not  all." 

"  I  thought  'twas  agreed  that  we'd  say  nought  of 
that." 

"  I  can't  forget,  however." 

"Time  be  on  our  side.  In  the  long  run  'tis  easier 
for  most  people  to  forgive  than  not.  Come  up  so  far 
as  Black  Down  with  me  an'  little  Henny.  I'm  taking 
her  to  see  her  gran'mother  this  afternoon." 

"  So  I  will  then,  for  I  want  to  call  on  Dick  Barkell. 
He's  agreeable  to  the  idea  of  a  workman's  club,  so 
long  as  1  never  ask  him  to  go  near  it.  If  he  does, 
he'll  be  putting  his  free-thought  poison  into  their 
minds  ;  so  I've  told  him  the  further  he  keeps  away 
the  better  I'll  be  pleased." 

They  walked  along  together  through  the  camp  and 
over  the  heath-clad  breast  of  Black  Down.  Dodd 
carried  the  baby  until  they  reached  Redavon  brook  on 
its  journey  to  Meldon  ;  then  Ilet  went  forward  to 
Fishcombe  and  her  husband,  keeping  to  the  right, 
presently  reached  the   Barkells'  home. 

Wolferstan  found  Dicky  enjoying  Sunday  leisure. 
He  was  sitting  in  his  shirt-sleeves  by  the  fire,  smoking, 
and  reading  '  The  Service  of  Man.' 

"Hullo!"  he  said.  "What's  the  best  news  with 
you  ?      How's  the  club  going  on  ?  " 

"  Slowly  but  steadily.  I've  come  about  it.  Draper 
Knapp  will  let  us  have  the  top  floor  over  his  shop  for 
thirty  pound  a  year,  so  that's  all  right;  but  would  you 
ask  Sir  Thomas  Carew  to  be  President,  as  a  compli- 
ment to  him  and  an  advertisement  to  the  scheme,  or 
would  you  just  go  about  among  the  chaps  and  do  it 
without  gentlefolk  at  all  ?  " 

"  There's  to  be  no  politics  nor  religion  —  eh  ?  " 

"No  politics — just  social;  as  to  religion  —  I  want 
chaps  to  be  better  for  coming,  certainly." 

Dicky  smiled  at  the  fire. 


284  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  You're  a  rum  un,"  he  said.  "  Confess  now  :  you 
want  to  preach  to  the  poor  beggars  sometimes  of  an 
evening." 

"  Not  I  —  not  more  than  the  usual  preaching  of 
man  to  man.  We  all  preach,  Dicky :  our  lives  are 
sermons  and  hold  up  some  cause  —  good  or  ill  —  that 
we  stand  for." 

"  They  would  be  if  we  was  all  above  board,  no 
doubt ;  but  there  are  lives  that  preach  one  thing  to 
the  eye,  but  be  only  false  scents,  to  turn  all  noses  away 
from  the  truth  of  the  man,  and  what  he's  doing  and 
running  after  out  of  sight.  I  don't  say  'tis  so  with 
you.  I  don't  say  that  this  social  club  is  to  advance 
your  own  credit  and  renown.  But  if  'tis  a  success,  it 
will  do  so,  unless  you  let  others  who  may  be  greedy  of 
credit  take  it." 

"  I  don't  seek  no  credit  myself" 

"  Well,  let  it  work  its  own  way.  Don't  get  putting 
your  oar  in  and  drawing  morals  and  settling  what  peo- 
ple are  to  drink.  If  'tis  a  good  thing,  'twill  make  for 
good.  Let  it  stand  on  its  own  bottom  and  don't  turn 
away  jolly  members  by  playing  parson.  My  advice  is 
that  all  be  equal  without  any  patrons  or  rot  of  that  sort. 
The  big-wigs  be  quite  stuck  up  enough  already. 
How  will  Sir  Tommy  Carew's  name  help  ?  The 
sheep  that  would  flock  to  that  bell-wether  ban't  worth 
counting." 

"  You're  bringing  in  politics  now  yourself,"  said 
Wolferstan. 

"  Not  me.  'Tis  you  that  will  if  you  make  that  chap 
your  President.  He  hates  the  name  of  freedom  in 
any  shape  or  form.  He'd  protect  everything  —  but 
the  poor.  You'll  start  handicapped  if  you  stick  his 
name  to  the  show." 

They  talked  at  considerable  length,  but  Wolferstan 
and  his  friend  looked  at  life  from  standpoints  so  oppo- 


A    LARGER    LIFE  285 

site,  that  their  discussion  little  advanced  the  project. 
Dicky  was  too  satirical,  and  presently,  when  he  again 
returned  to  the  personal  view  and  bluntly  showed 
Dodd  that  perhaps,  after  all,  his  own  ultimate  welfare 
actuated  this  enterprise,  the  rising  man  got  angry. 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  hadn't  got  such  a  mean  heart," 
he  said.  "  You'm  frost  to  my  fire  when  to  do  good's 
the  matter.  Can't  you  ever  credit  me  with  high 
motives  ^ " 

"  You're  a  man  easily  blinded,"  answered  the  other. 
"  You  came  for  me  to  criticise,  so  'tis  idle  to  be  niffed 
with  me  because  I'm  doing  it.  I  don't  say  you  set 
out  knowing  you  was  going  to  better  yourself;  but  I 
do  say  that  you  never  put  hand  to  a  thing  that  don't 
tend  in  that  direction.  You  shout  with  the  loudest 
and  you  always  be  found  on  the  side  of  your  inclina- 
tion. Call  home  a  fortnight  agone.  I  met  you  and 
asked  you  to  go  and  see  old  Ferryman,  because  he 
was  ill  and  would  take  it  very  kind  in  you.  You  said, 
*  Why  don't  you  go,  Dick  ? '  And  I  said,  '  Because 
my  way  of  thought  ban't  his,  and  I  can't  bleat  about 
the  golden  streets  and  an  eternity  of  happiness  —  not 
believing  in  any  of  that  pantomime.'  You  shrugged 
your  shoulders  and  said,  '  I'll  go  if  I  remember  it.' 
Then  I  said,  '  Don't  fear  that,  Dodd.  Us  always  re- 
member the  unpleasant  things.  A  well-trained  con- 
science looks  to  that.  You  won't  forget  it.'  Did  you 
forget  it  ?  " 

Wolferstan's  face  fell. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  To  be  honest  with  you,  I  did 
not  forget  it." 

"  Did  you  go  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't." 

"  There  you  are  in  a  nutshell,"  said  Dicky  mildly. 
"Forgive  me,  Dodd  —  ban't  no  business  of  mine; 
but  you  challenged  it  in  a  manner  of  speaking.     As 


286  THE    PORTREEVE 

for  me,  I'm  always  open  to  hearing  the  truth  about 
myself.  There's  nought  so  interesting  —  and  nought 
so  nasty  most  times." 

"  You  blame  me  for  wanting  to  preach ;  but  'tis 
what  you're  always  doing  in  your  bitter  way.  How- 
ever, I'm  not  one  to  flinch  at  the  truth  or  to  quarrel 
with  it.     How's  Ned  Ferryman  now  ?  " 

"  My  father  was  along  with  him  last  Tuesday  and 
found  him  better  —  sitting  up.  Didn't  you,  my  old 
dear  ?  " 

The  younger  Barkell  shouted  the  last  question,  but 
it  did  not  waken  his  parent,  who  slept  in  a  high  chair 
by  the  fire.  So  Dicky  flung  '  The  Service  of  Man ' 
at  Abner  and  prodded  him  in  his  stomach. 

Whereupon  the  ancient  arose  with  a  start  and  then 
groaned,  for  his  action  had  provoked  a  stab  of  rheuma- 
tism. 

"What's  doing  ?  — What's  doing?  You,  Mr. 
Wolferstan  —  Portreeve  no  more  —  lifted  to  higher 
things  without  a  doubt." 

"The  question  is  —  Ferryman,"  interrupted  Dicky. 
"  I  tell  Dodd  the  old  chap  was  sitting  by  the  fire  on 
Tuesday  when  you  called." 

"  So  he  was,  and  us  had  a  tell  about  the  hereafter, 
an'  I  vexed  un  cruel  as  usual  —  being  all  against  flesh 
and  blood  there,  while  he  cleaves  to  his  carcase  and 
swears  as  he'd  not  know  hisself  without  it.  But, 
whether  or  no,  he  was  to  bide  indoors  till  Doctor's 
round  again  this  week." 

Wolferstan  rose. 

"  What  d'you  call  it  from  here  to  his  place  ?  " 

"  A  matter  of  four  mile  over  the  Moor  an'  six  by 
the  road." 

"Then  I'm  off,"  said  the  visitor;  "an'  when  Ilet 
comes  for  me,  which  she  be  going  to  do  on  the  way 
back  from  Mrs.  Fierce's,  tell  her  as  I  shan't  be  home 


A    LARGER    LIFE  287 

afore  supper,  because  I'm  reminded  of  a  visit  I  ought 
to  have  paid  long  ago." 

He  departed,  and  Dicky  rose  and  picked  up  his  book. 

"  Off  to  cheer  up  Ned,  be  he  ?  "  asked  Abner. 

"Yes;  an'  now  he'll  get  the  credit  of  a  proper 
deed;  whereas,  if  there  was  any  honesty  wi'  the 
recorders,  it  did  ought  to  go  to  me,"  answered  his  son. 

A  thin  murmur  fell  on  their  ears,  and  Abner,  long 
trained  to  it,  rose  and  stretched  for  his  hat.  He  was 
as  skilled  in  the  music  of  the  viaduct  as  a  physician  in 
the  discords  and  harmonies  of  the  human  heart.  He 
knew  the  sounds  of  the  storm  and  of  the  various  light 
or  heavy,  slow  or  swift  trains  that  played  upon  that 
mighty  harp  of  steel. 

"  There's  the  mid-dav  from  Lunnon,"  he  said,  and 
crept  out  to  see  it  pass. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    BLUE    ROSETTE 

THE  great  day  of  the  Okehampton  Agricultural 
Show  had  come  again,  and  fair  skies  shone  upon 
it.  Beyond  the  town  northward,  in  the  glades 
of  a  park,  the  exhibition  was  held ;  and  now  crowds 
from  outlying  villages  and  the  railway  station  climbed 
up  leafy  lanes  to  the  entrance.  Under  the  shadow 
of  the  trees,  poor  armless,  legless  human  ruins  crawled 
or  sat,  like  maimed  flies,  while  the  people  dropped 
occasional  pennies  into  their  hands.  A  stump  of  a 
man,  supported  on  a  little  trolley  with  four  wheels, 
played  a  concertina.  Masses  of  many-coloured  holi- 
day attires  crowded  at  the  entrance.  The  bright  blue, 
pink  and  white  dresses  of  the  girls  ;  the  black  coats 
and  hats  of  the  gaffers  ;  the  hot  violets  and  reds  of  the 
matrons,  their  flaming  bonnets  and  feathers  ;  the  strong, 
serious,  gaitered  red  and  brown  men  in  their  market 
clothes  —  all  swept  along  together,  converged  at  the 
gate,  then  scattered  over  the  grounds  within. 

The  hackneys  had  covered  stands,  as  befitted  their 
dignity;  the  cart-horses  were  drawn  up  under  a  hedge, 
and  their  mighty  flanks  presented  a  glistening  series 
of  rotundities  in  grey  and  black,  chestnut  and  brown. 
Their  manes  and  tails  were  tied  and  plaited  with  bright 
braid.  Beside  one  indifi^erent  giant,  who  wore  the  blue 
badge  of  victory  on  his  enormous  chest,  stood  the 
owner,  a  little,  round-faced,  sandy-whiskered  man, 
whose  countenance  shone  with  pride. 

288 


THE    BLUE    ROSETTE  289 

The  ring  was  set  in  the  midst,  and  the  show,  with  its 
tents  and  grand  stand,  stalls  and  booths,  spread  snugly- 
round  about.  Flags  waved  ;  a  militia  band  blared  at 
intervals ;  the  throb  and  grunting  of  a  thresher  per- 
sisted, and  steam  puffed  upward  from  it.  Agricultural 
implements,  painted  crudely  in  dazzling  scarlet,  yellow 
and  blue,  with  strange  arms  and  claws  of  wood  and 
steel,  glared  barbaric  in  the  sunshine  and  killed  the 
first  faint  warmth  of  autumn  that  already  mellowed 
the  dark  green  of  the  forests.  The  church  was  not  far 
distant,  and  a  ring  of  bells  added  their  music  to  the 
hour. 

Along  the  stalls  the  clearly  defined  odours  of  horses, 
oxen  and  sheep  passed  into  each  other.  Over  the 
kine  a  fragrance  hung,  and  the  gentle-eyed,  straight- 
backed  cows  gazed  mildly  upon  their  admirers.  Here 
too  were  little  red  calves,  bright  in  the  coat  as  a  new- 
fallen  chestnut,  and  noble  bulls  whose  mighty  breathing 
and  majestic  mien  suggested  knowledge  of  their  paternal 
fame.  One  little  bull,  five  months  old,  stood  beside 
his  father  —  a  huge  veteran  with  a  front  like  Jove,  a 
chest  like  a  battering-ram,  hooves  that  began  to  turn 
upward  like  Turkish  slippers,  and  a  ring  in  his  nose. 
The  infant  bull  was  a  perfect  miniature  of  his  enor- 
mous sire,  and  already,  albeit  a  baby,  displayed  the 
lordly  air  of  invincible  courage  and  command,  the  grand 
neck,  curly  forehead,  and  stern,  sulky  eyes  of  an  entire 
animal.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  weight,  power  and 
imperious  will  about  him  that  lacked  from  the  humble, 
cow-shaped  steers  ranged  next  in  their  class. 

A  strange  human  figure  sat  beside  the  great  bull. 
He  was  in  command  of  it,  and  the  monster  represented 
his  life.  One  eye  of  this  old  man  drooped,  his  mouth 
was  always  opened,  and  his  mind  was  feeble  save  where 
the  bull  was  concerned.  The  labourer  lived  for  it,  and 
had  no  other  duty  save  to  attend  upon  this  short- 
u 


290  THE    PORTREEVE 

tempered  but  valuable  brute.  The  bull  and  its  busi- 
ness formed  the  whole  matter  of  his  existence,  and  he 
alone  had  power  to  control  it. 

The  mares  with  foal  at  foot  attracted  very  general 
admiration,  and  some  said  that  Orlando  Slanning  ought 
to  have  won,  with  a  lovely  mother  and  daughter ;  but 
the  judges  thought  otherwise,  and  Orlando,  who  bus- 
tled about  with  the  insignia  of  stewardship,  was  hot 
and  annoyed  at  his  reverse. 

His  wife  and  mother-in-law  went  together  through 
the  tents;  but  Mr.  Horn  showed  not  much  interest  in 
agriculture  and  confined  his  attention  to  the  cattle. 

The  shadow  of  the  awnings  fell  pleasantly  and  their 
subdued  light  was  grateful  after  the  outer  glare.  But 
the  heat  and  crowd  within  made  visitors  hasten  round 
and  feel  not  sorry  to  escape  again.  Mighty  vegetables 
awaited  enthusiasm.  Here  were  leeks,  like  church 
candles,  lettuces  as  great  as  cabbages,  cabbages  with 
wonderful  purple  hearts,  as  big  as  bushes.  The  mag- 
nitude of  the  spring  onions  was  only  forgotten  before 
the  immense  proportions  of  the  winter  sorts.  The 
turnips  were  larger  still,  and  their  delicate  green  faded 
deliciously  into  the  pure  white  of  their  bodies.  The 
carrots  and  parsnips  were  spires  of  red  gold  and  pale 
gold;  among  the  French  beans  the  prize  went  to 
quality  rather  than  size.  Some  monsters  above  a  foot 
long  were  unrewarded ;  for  the  winners  proved  of 
medium  size,  with  shapely  pod  and  delicate  texture. 

Mrs.  Slanning  was  interested  in  potatoes.  Here 
they  lay,  bursting  their  silvery  skins  with  fatness,  and 
in  all  shades  of  colour,  from  palest  brown  to  purple. 
Light  played  on  their  silky  coats  and  their  skins  were 
delicate  and  transparent  as  the  white  hand  of  a  girl. 

Then  came  fruit  and  made  a  fragrance  and  a  great 
splash  of  wonderful  colour.  Red  apples,  mellow  pears, 
plums  yellow  and  blue,  grapes  black  and  white,  green 


THE    BLUE    ROSETTE  291 

figs,  tomatoes,  melons,  peaches,  nectarines  and  autumn 
leaves  furnished  a  dazzling,  glowing  harmony  in  all 
the  season's  rich  wealth  of  scarlet  and  gold,  russet  and 
purple,  orange  and  lemon. 

Wolferstan  took  his  wife  and  Henny  Pierce  round 
the  tents.  As  Secretary  of  the  Show  he  was  exceed- 
ingly busy  ;  and  presently  he  meant  to  drive  his  horse 
'  Rover '  in  the  Driving  Class ;  therefore  his  leisure 
was  limited.  But  he  enjoyed  this  part  of  the  day's 
work  best,  and,  as  an  expert,  spent  some  time  with  the 
bee  products,  though  he  had  ceased  to  show  honey 
himself. 

But  first  came  the  cream-bowls,  each  under  its  thin, 
corn-coloured  crust,  and  the  butter  followed.  Then 
the  honey  appeared  in  jars  and  sections.  The  jars 
showed  the  three  recognised  honey-colours  of  amber, 
tortoiseshell,  and  the  medium  tint  between.  A  pale 
honey  won  first  prize,  and  in  the  section  class  Mrs. 
Horn  was  victorious.  From  her  hives  at  Bowden 
came  plump  and  lovely  comb,  well  filled  to  the  edge, 
with  just  a  rich  glint  of  golden  light  showing  through 
the  translucent  wax. 

The  band  played  merry  measures  ;  the  people  buzzed 
round  the  show  ring,  as  class  after  class  came  forth  for 
judgment;  the  beer  tent  was  never  empty.  Victors 
took  vanquished  there ;  big  holes  were  made  in  the 
modest  money  prizes ;  various  utterances  of  praise  or 
censure,  according  to  the  point  of  view,  were  directed 
against  the  judges  and  their  awards. 

Large  interest  centred  in  the  driving  competition, 
and  most  of  those  who  knew  him,  hoped  that  Wolfer- 
stan would  win  the  Okehampton  Union  Silver  Chal- 
lenge Cup  outright.  '  Rover  '  had  two  victories  to  his 
credit,  and  only  required  one  more  to  secure  the  trophy 
permanently. 

After  luncheon  the  trials  in  this  class  began,  and  Ilet 


292  THE   PORTREEVE 

stood  and  watched  her  husband  harness  his  horse. 
Dodd  felt  hopeful,  but  a  circumstance  tended  much 
to  mystify"  him,  and  he  called  his  wife's  attention  to 
the  official  catalogue. 

After  preliminary  announcements  and  mention  that 
the  cup  offered  for  the  driving  class  was  at  present  in 
possession  of  Mr.  D.  Wolferstan,  there  came  the  list 
of  competitors. 

"  I  know  something  about  all  of  them,"  said  Dodd 
—  "all  but  the  last." 

Ilet  read :  "  Mrs.  Orlando  Slanning.  Chestnut 
Mare,  '  Flying  Fox,'  six  years." 

"  Something  new  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Quite  —  so  far  as  I  know." 

He  enquired  of  another  competitor,  who  was  just 
harnessing  his  horse,  and  the  man  answered  that  he 
also  had  never  heard  of  '  Flying  Fox.' 

"  If  she  comes  from  '  Slanning's,'  'twill  be  all  right.* 
no  doubt,"  he  added ;  "  but  she  must  be  something 
out  of  the  common  to  beat  your  '  Rover.' " 

"  She'll  drive  herself,  I  reckon,"  said  Dodd. 

"  Female  like :  'tis  to  show  herself  more  than  the 
boss,   I   dare  say,"  said  the  other. 

Presently  Wolferstan  spoke  to  his  wife  again. 

"I  wish  she  hadn't  entered,  all  the  same  —  not  for 
this  competition.  I'm  pretty  safe  with  '  Rover,'  and 
it's  a  pity." 

"  Could  you  drop  out  ?  " 

"  *  Drop  out '  !  Not  likely  now.  The  cup  is  mine 
if  I  win  to-day.  And  the  horse  better  than  ever  he 
was."  He  patted  his  steed —  a  useful,  iron-grey  geld- 
ing of  fourteen  hands.  '  Rover '  had  some  good 
blood  in  him  and  enjoyed  an  honourable  local  repu- 
tation. He  looked  exceedingly  well  and  his  coat 
shone. 

"  Mr.  Toms  reckons  to  beat  you  with  his  *  Elastic 


THE    BLUE    ROSETTE  293 

Mary,'  "  said  Ilet.  "  She've  come  on  a  lot  since  last 
year." 

"  Not  he  !  She's  all  right,  and  she  has  come  on  ;  but 
she  can't  live  with  '  Rover.'      Now  'tis  time." 

Ilet  held  the  horse's  head;  then  Dodd  jumped  into 
a  neat  trap,  took  the  reins  and  joined  the  row  of  dog- 
carts entering  the  ring. 

In  the  arena  all  eyes  rounded  to  reverence  before  the 
spectacle  of  two  little  dapper,  clean-shaved  and  bright- 
eyed  men.  One  was  clad  in  grey  ;  the  other  in  light 
brown.  Both  wore  gaiters,  white  stocks  and  hard,  flat- 
brimmed  hats  of  approved  horsey  pattern  that  matched 
their  clothes  ;  both  were  the  incarnation  of  smartness, 
keenness  and  equine  knowledge.  Their  fame  extended 
beyond  the  west,  and  one  came  from  Cornwall,  the  other 
from  Devon.  They  were  the  judges  of  the  hunters  and 
hacks.  Their  eyes  penetrated  the  horses.  They  saw 
more  than  any  other  two  pairs  of  eyes  on  the  ground. 
They  seldom  differed  for  a  moment.  From  walk  to 
trot,  from  trot  to  gallop,  the  classes  went ;  and  they 
followed  every  movement.  Then  they  themselves 
would  solemnly  mount ;  and  the  stirrups  usually  had 
to  be  taken  up  for  them,  because  they  were  very  short. 
To  see  them  on  horseback  was  most  instructive ;  they 
appeared  more  at  home  there  than  on  foot.  Having 
themselves  trotted  and  galloped,  they  would  dismount, 
feel  down  fore-legs,  touch  heaving  flanks,  and  some- 
times order  saddles  off  that  they  might  the  better  judge. 
They  were  always  cheerful  and  smiling.  They  worked 
exceedingly  hard,  and  not  a  sportsman  present  would 
have  doubted  the  justice  of  their  verdicts.  But  men 
are  not  always  sportsmen  under  the  strain  of  disappoint- 
ment. An  irate  owner  of  a  big  bay  who  got  second 
prize  but  felt  himself  sure  of  first  in  the  open  com- 
petition for  hunters,  flung  down  his  red  rosette  and 
rode  off,  uttering  loud  protest.      Some  laughed,  some 


294  THE    PORTREEVE 

hissed  his  temper.  The  judges  were  not  perturbed. 
Already  their  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  next  class  as  it 
filed  into  the  ring.  They  were  both  breeders  ;  both 
lived  on  their  knowledge  and  understanding  of  the 
horse.  Nor  did  they  lack  humour.  Sometimes, 
always  smiling,  they  asked  a  competitor  who  showed 
much  daylight  to  '  get  a  little  nearer  his  hoss  ' :  some- 
times they  exchanged  professional  asides  which  con- 
vulsed with  merriment  those  privileged  to  hear 
them.  Nerve  and  good  temper  especially  belonged 
to  them.  They  exercised  their  knowledge  to  the 
full,  took  infinite  pains  to  be  just,  and  so  upheld  their 
reputation  as  men  of  high  repute  in  hack  and  hunter 
circles. 

Now  came  jingling  of  buckles,  dull  jolting  of  wheels 
over  the  turf,  and  thud  of  hoofs.  Eight  traps  revolved 
round  the  judges  ;  eight  drivers  performed  to  the  best 
of  their  powers.  The  competitors  were  already  on  the 
move  when  Mrs.  Slanning  appeared,  and  Dodd,  at  the 
other  side  of  the  ring,  heard  a  shout  of  applause.  Prim- 
rose drove  a  much  more  stylish  vehicle  than  any  other 
now  in  the  ring.  It  was  light  and  lofty,  and  of  perfect 
make.  The  impassive  driver  in  tailor-made  tweeds, 
the  bright  chestnut  horse  and  the  trap  with  wheels  that 
glittered  like  gossamers  as  they  turned,  made  a  fair 
picture  and  awoke  enthusiastic  criticism.  Orlando 
listened  to  various  congratulations  and  the  judges 
were  alert,  for  this  was  to  be  no  walk-over  for  the 
familiar  '  Rover.'  Indeed,  that  good  iron-grey  did  not 
shine  by  contrast  with  the  new  competitor.  From  the 
rest  he  held  his  own  handsomely  and  must  have  beaten 
them,  as  Dodd  believed  ;  but '  Flying  Fox  '  was  a  great 
mare  and  did  honour  to  famous  parents.  With  the 
new  cart  behind  her  and  the  lovely  woman  driving, 
she  made  a  very  beautiful  picture,  stepped  like  a  ma- 
chine, so  that   her  feet  scarcely  seemed   to  touch   the 


THE    BLUE    ROSETTE 


295 


ground,  and  proved  herself  faster,  fairer  to  see,  grander 
of  action  than  anything  in  the  ring.  She  was  a  better 
mover  and  more  symmetrical  than  the  gelding.  Wolf- 
erstan  looked  up  as  '  Flying  Fox  '  passed  '  Rover,'  and 
a  glance  told  him  the  truth.  He  was  going  at  his  best 
pace  and  his  horse  doing  all  that  it  could  do  ;  but  the 
mare  slipped  past  like  a  sunbeam  and  he  knew  that  she 
had  won.  He  stopped  at  the  grand  stand  and  drew  up 
in  line  with  the  other  competitors.  It  was  an  admis- 
sion of  defeat ;  but  for  once  in  a  way  no  possibility  of 
doubt  existed.  The  crowd  had  already  anticipated  the 
verdict. 

The  gallant  little  judges  bowed,  took  off  their  hats 
to  Primrose,  and  congratulated  heron  her  steed.  They 
knew  all  about  '  Flying  Fox  '  and  her  parents.  Then 
they  spoke  amiably  to  Wolferstan,  and  expressed  a 
sportsmanlike  regret  that  he  had  not  brought  off  the 
cup.  Amid  cheers  Orlando,  in  the  capacity  of  steward, 
carried  his  wife  the  blue  rosette,  while  another  official 
handed  a  red  favour  to  Wolferstan.  Once,  with 
heightened  colour  and  a  brief  smile,  the  winner  drove 
round  the  ring;  then  she  vanished.  'Rover'  also, 
according  to  etiquette,  trotted  round  as  winner  of 
second  place ;  but  there  were  no  eyes  for  him,  and 
Wolferstan  v/as  glad,  for  his  face  could  not  hide  the 
disappointment  of  his  heart. 

Soon  Dodd  had  returned  to  the  secretary's  tent ; 
and  there  the  owner  of  another  horse  condoled  with 
him. 

"Yet  I  can't  say  Fm  sorry  altogether,"  he  added, 
"  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  the  Union  will  be  glad  the 
cup's  not  won  outright." 

The  trophy  in  question  stood  on  a  pedestal  at  hand  ; 
and  now  Slanning  entered  with  his  wife  and  some 
friends  to  see  it.  Primrose  kept  her  back  to  the  sec- 
retary's table  and  none  paid  any  attention  to  Wolfcr- 


296  THE   PORTREEVE 

Stan,  but  gathered  round  the  prize.  It  was  of  silver 
and  stood  eighteen  inches  high.  The  art  of  the  thing 
belonged  to  a  mean  and  garish  order.  A  wreath  sur- 
rounded the  bas-relief  of  a  trotting  pony.  A  list  of 
winners'  names  was  inscribed  upon  it,  and  Wolferstan's 
had  twice  been  cut  there. 

"  How  hideous  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Slanning.  "  What 
shall  I  do  with  it  ?     'Tis  too  ugly  for  anything." 

"  Oh,  you  can  hide  it  in  some  corner,"  suggested  a 
friend. 

Then  Primrose  whispered  a  word  to  her  husband, 
who  turned  to  Wolferstan. 

"  Will  you  let  it  be  known  that  '  Flying  Fox'  is  for 
sale,  please,  Mr.  Secretary?"  he  said. 

"  For  sale  ?  Yes ;  it  shall  be  put  down  in  the 
report." 

"  For  sale  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Horn.  "  You  don't  mean 
you're  going  to  get  rid  of  the  best  horse  in  the  show. 
Primrose  !  " 

"  I  don't  Hke  her,  mother,"  she  said  coldly.  "  She's 
good  enough,  but — Fm  tired  of  her." 

"  You've  only  had  her  three  months  !  " 

"  She's  for  sale,  however."  Then  Primrose  turned 
to  her  husband. 

"  You'll  bring  that  atrocity  home  with  you  ?  "  she 
said. 

"  The  cup  —  yes." 

A  moment  more  and  she  had  left  the  tent  with  her 
friends. 

That  night,  after  dark,  I  let  and  Dodd,  from  their 
home  on  the  hill,  looked  down  into  Okehampton  and 
heard  the  fun  of  the  fair  wafted  up  to  them  across 
darkness.  The  folk  shouted  and  sang,  the  lights 
glittered  and  twinkled,  steam  '  roundabouts '  whirled 
and  their  music  brayed. 


THE    BLUE    ROSETTE  297 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Ilet.  "  I'm  right  glad  she 
won  and  you  was  second.  What's  the  beautiful  cup 
to  us  ?  Nought  compared  with  her  friendship.  This 
may  be  the  first  step." 

"  The  first  step  —  yes,"  he  said  ;  "  but  how  to  friend- 
ship ?  This  was  done  on  purpose  to  knock  me  out  of 
the  cup.      It  was  planned  against  me  with  forethought." 

"  Don't  think  that,"  she  begged.  "  'Twas  all  in 
the  honest  way  of  horse  against  horse  in  open  com- 
petition." 

"  Then  why  for  did  she  sell  *  Flying  Fox '  the  next 
minute  ?  One  of  the  judges  bought  it  on  the  spot  the 
moment  he  heard  'twas  for  sale." 

"  She's  rich  now,  and  you  know  what  whims  us  all 
have.  Try  to  think  'twas  plain  dealing,  Dodd,  till 
you  know  different ;  or  better  still,  go  your  way  and 
don't  think  about  it  at  all." 

"  That's  the  best  advice,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   IV 


THE    MEETING 


THE  land  that  Wolferstan  had  rented  in  the 
valley  promised  well,  and  already,  without  un- 
reasonable hopefulness,  he  looked  forward  and 
counted  his  gains.  The  passage  of  six  months  and 
the  return  of  another  summer  brought  fine  crops  to 
reward  him,  and  his  peas,  as  he  foretold,  were  the  first 
in  the  local  markets. 

The  ground  extended  on  the  north  side  of  the  river 
beneath  the  ruins  of  Okehampton  castle  and  beyond. 
It  sloped  southerly  and  was  snugly  hemmed  in  to  the 
north  and  east.  Westerly  of  his  limits,  lay  a  long  and 
level  tract  of  heath  and  furze  where  targets  for  rifle 
practice  stood.  The  place  was  a  good  distance  from 
his  home,  but  neither  Dodd  nor  Ilet  made  much  of 
the  hill  between  and,  after  a  long  day  on  the  earth 
below,  he  was  always  glad  to  climb  aloft  to  the  more 
open  and  invigorating  site  of  his  house. 

Of  the  Slannings  Wolferstan  saw  no  more  after  the 
Agricultural  Show.  At  Christmas  Orlando's  father 
died,  and  his  mother  left  the  mill  and  took  a  house  at 
Tavistock.  Then  Primrose  and  her  husband  went 
into  residence ;  and  predictions  were  not  verified,  for 
the  new  master  of  *  Slanning's '  settled  very  steadily  to 
work  and  carried  on  his  business  after  the  tradition  of 
sensible  ancestors. 

Orlando  and  his  wife  both  rode  to  hounds  and  were 
usually  seen  at  any  local  festivity ;  but  none  spoke  ill 
of  them.     They  were  popular  and  generous. 

298 


THE    MEETING  299 

When  his  workman's  club  was  inaugurated,  Wolf- 
erstan  had  ventured  on  a  letter  to  the  young  miller. 
He  set  out  the  advantages  of  the  institution  and 
begged  for  a  subscription.  But  his  letter  received  no 
answer  and  he  knew  that  the  Slannings  were  still  his 
enemies. 

The  fact  galled  him,  and  friendly  responses  to  his 
appeal  from  other  quarters  did  not  serve  to  lessen  his 
irritation.  Ilet  herself  could  not  do  so.  He  mourned 
the  position  and  troubled  how  to  retrieve  it.  That 
Slanning  now  stood  high  in  public  esteem  was  also  to 
his  innermost  heart  a  wrong.  He  did  not  resent  it ; 
but  he  could  not  understand  it. 

Abner  Barkell  and  his  son  came  to  Sunday  dinner 
at  Wolferstan's,  and  the  theme  formed  matter  for 
comment. 

"  Full  of  mystery  the  world  is,"  said  Dodd.  "  Who 
would  have  thought  now  that  man  —  so  wild  and  silly 
as  he  was  —  should  have  risen  to  the  occasion  when  his 
father  died,  and  suddenly  developed  such  sense  —  eh  ?  " 

"It's  his  wife  —  not  him,"  said  Ilet,  and  Mr. 
Barkell  the  elder  nodded. 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it.  'Tis  often  the  saving  act  of  a 
fool  to  take  a  sensible  woman.  Her  head  is  respon- 
sible for  everything.  A  chap  don't  suddenly  begin  to 
do  the  wise  thing  after  he's  been  used  for  five  an' 
twenty  years  to  do  the  foolish,  without  a  sudden  tight 
hand  on  the  reins.  Why,  to  see  him  in  church  o' 
Sundays  at  Bridgetstowe  —  always  a  black  coat  now, 
they  tell  me.  And  takes  the  dish  round  just  as  seemly 
as  ever  you  did,  Dodd." 

"  His  wife,  of  course." 

"  Still  fond  of  soldiering,  however,"  said  Ilet.  "  I 
seed  his  name  wi'  Captain  afore  it  not  long  since." 

"  But  no  childer,  yet.  That's  his  thorn,  you  may 
bet  your  life,"  said  Abner. 


300 


THE    PORTREEVE 


"  Maybe  she's  not  cut  out  for  a  mother,"  declared 
Dicky.     "  They  don't  all  like  'em." 

Abner  laughed. 

"Then  she'll  resist 'em  without  a  doubt.  Her  will's 
law  at  '  Slanning's,'  an'  she  won't  let  child-bearing  in- 
terfere with  horsemanship  —  such  a  great  one  for  sport 
as  her." 

"  'Tis  to  do  her  husband  a  wrong,  however,"  argued 
Dodd. 

"  As  to  that,"  answered  Dicky,  who  loved  such  prob- 
lems, "  you  open  a  big  question.  Women's  a  right 
to  be  heard  in  that  matter.  Us  oughtn't  to  force 
mothership  on   'em,  if  they'm  against  it." 

"  Stuff!  "  answered  Abner.  "  No  woman's  a  right 
to  deny  fathership  to  her  husband.  Chaps  like  you 
would  take  everything  out  of  the  hands  o'  God  an' 
leave  Him  nought  to  do  but  watch  you  running  the 
whole  earth.  An'  a  proper  hell  of  a  mess  you'd  leave 
for  the  next  generation  —  if  there  was  any  next  genera- 
tion at  all  after  your  muddling.  Childer  be  the  Lord's 
affair,  an'  you've  no  right  at  all  to  interfere  with  it. 
'Tis  our  job  to  sow  the  seed,  and  His  Almighty  busi- 
ness to  order  the  crops." 

"  Hark  to  him  !  "  said  Dicky. 

"  He's  right,"  answered  Dodd.  "  'Tis  every  man's 
work  to  be  fruitful  an'  multiply,  Dick  —  though  you 
shirk  your  duty  so  terrible." 

"What's  the  sense  of  plunging  into  a  job  you  know 
you'm  not  fitted  for  ?  "  asked  Richard.  "  What's  the 
use  of  turning  a  good  bachelor  into  a  bad  father  ?  " 

"  You'd  banish  all  fight  and  battle  and  difficulty  out 
of  life,  if  you  could.  'Tis  little  better  than  cowardice 
in  you  to  live  the  life  you  do." 

"That's  what  I've  told  him  these  ten  years,"  said 
Dicky's  father.  "  Life  would  be  a  paltry  business  if 
every  mart  sheltered  himself  behind  the  single  state." 


THE    MEETING 


301 


"  To  put  it  on  a  higher  plane,"  said  Dodd,  "  how 
are  you  going  to  get  ripe  for  usefulness  in  the  next 
world,  if  you  hide  away  in  this  one  an'  never  let  the 
fire  of  trial  and  trouble  ripen  you  ?  " 

The  signalman  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  did  not 
answer.      He  was  reflecting  on  Wolferstan's  own  life. 

"Discipline,"  continued  Dodd  —  "surely  the  disci- 
pline of  the  world  is  vital.  The  discipline  of  pain, 
and  of  grief,  and  of  failure  —  that's  the  worst  disci- 
pline of  all." 

"  There's  one  worse,"  said  Dicky,  "  the  discipline 
of  hearing  a  well-meaning  man  preaching." 

He  laughed,  but  nobody  else  did.  Then  he  grew 
serious. 

"If  you  want  to  talk  about  lofty  things,  I'm  your 
man  ;  but  us  never  start  from  the  same  standpoint 
and  us  never  agree.  You  say  the  world's  run  right 
and  nought  happens  that  ban't  planned  and  provided 
for.  I  say  the  world's  a  welter  of  chance  and  luck, 
and  it  won't  work  smoother  and   fairer  till   mankind 


[row  wiser." 


"  You'd  rule  out  all  difficulty  and  risk,  and  make 
this  world  heaven.  Don't  we  want  training  to  make 
men  of  us  ?  Don't  we  want  the  threat  of  the  Eternal 
Anger  to  keep  us  right  ?  Ban't  we  children  all,  an' 
why  should  the  Heavenly  Father  spare  the  rod  more 
than  the  earthly  father  should  ?  Trial  and  temptation 
are  part  of  the  Heavenly  wisdom.  We  call  for  a  deal 
of  bracing  here,  Dick,  afore  we  are  strong  enough  for 
the  work  of  the  next  world  ;  be  sure  of  that,"  declared 
Dodd. 

"  I  say  nought  against  that,"  answered  the  other. 
"  Brace  us  an'  harden  us  by  all  means.  But  look 
at  it.  Does  a  father  teach  his  child  to  swim  in  a 
sea  full  of  sharks  ?  Does  a  mother  let  her  little  one 
take  his  first  walking    lessons    on    a    level    crossing  ? 


302  THE    PORTREEVE 

Failure  be  good  enough  training,  as  you  said  just  now  ; 
'tis  the  highest  form  of  disciphne,  I  grant,  and  makes 
for  manhness  and  patience  and  charity.  But  look  at 
the  penalty  your  great  God  puts  on  failure.  Must  we 
risk  hell  to  get  to  heaven  ?  Be  the  price  of  failure  in 
the  earthly  race  to  be  eternal  damnation  ?  'Tis  foolery 
to  talk  so.  Couldn't  He  hit  on  no  happier  device  to 
make  us  ripe  for  glory  than  perdition  ?  Do  you  think 
'twas  a  God's  idea  to  set  hell,  like  a  man-trap,  at  the 
gate  of  heaven?  Every  man's  born  sinless  —  you'll 
grant  that,  I  suppose.  Then  why  don't  your  loving 
God  keep  him  so  ?  " 

"  No  man  is  tempted  of  God,"  answered  Dodd. 

"  Then  why  do  He  let  the  Devil  tempt  us  ?  It 
comes  back  to  His  deliberate  work,  if  He's  all-power- 
ful. But  if  there's  to  be  hell,  you've  got  to  drop 
your  Almighty,  for  almighty  He's  not  while  one  soul's 
lost  —  mind  that." 

"  Hell  ban't  what  it  was,"  answered  Wolferstan. 
"  There's  a  good  deal  of  attention  been  paid  to  that 
subject  by  learned  men  lately,  and  new  translations  of 
the  Scriptures  have  thrown  a  lot  of  light  on  the  matter. 
There's  not  the  old  reason  for  mankind  to  fear,  I 
believe." 

Abner  fired  up  at  this. 

"You  mind  what  you're  about,  Dodd,"  he  said. 
"  Them  as  play  with  hell  fire  in  this  world  may  be  the 
first  to  feel  the  bite  of  it  in  the  next.  Mind  you  don't 
wake  up  after  death  to  a  very  painful  astonishment. 
*Tis  about  the  worse  use  for  an  idle  man  as  ever  I 
heard  tell  of:  to  get  playing  with  the  Book,  and  a 
sure  sign  that  Satan's  busy  as  ever  he  was.  Any  fool 
can  see  his  game.  Once  he  gets  the  world  to  think 
there's  no  such  country  as  hell,  an'  the  place  will  be 
full.  Let  every  man  stick  to  hell  as  don't  want  to  go 
there  :  that's  my  advice." 


THE    MEETING  303 

The  old  man  had  become  very  excited.  He  spat 
into  the  fire  and  lighted  his  pipe  again. 

"  From  my  point  of  view,"  said  Dicky,  "  'tis  good 
news  to  hear  they  are  knocking  the  stuffing  out  of  the 
place.  All  the  same,  us  freethinkers  would  rather 
like  to  know  how  much  of  the  Bible's  going  to  be  left 
when  they  learned  men  have  done  with  it.  I  suppose 
the  parsons  will  keep  enough  to  earn  their  living  by. 
But  if  they  let  much  more  of  it  slip  through  their 
fingers,  the  world  will  wake  up  some  fine  day  and  ask 
the  black  coats  what  they  be  there  for,  and  tell  'em  it's 
got  a  better  use  for  the  millions  of  money  they  draw." 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  so  lightly,"  rejoined 
Wolferstan.  "  Religion  is  food  and  drink  to  Ilet  and 
me  ;  and  well  you  know  it." 

"Then  I'm  sorry  I  spoke,"  answered  the  railway- 
man. "  An'  I  hope  your  particular  brand  will  last  out 
your  time,  Dodd." 

"  You'll  come  to  know  better  yourself  yet,  Richard," 
replied  Wolferstan,  "if  you  only  look  at  it  with  an 
open  mind." 

"  Perhaps  I  shall." 

"All  the  same,  an  open  mind's  a  silly  mind,  so  far 
as  I  can  see,"  said  Ilet.  "  What's  the  use  of  shifting 
to  every  wind  that  blows  ?  As  parson  says  in  nearly 
every  sermon  he  preaches,  where  will  you  get  anything 
better  or  more  comforting,  or  more  like  to  help  you 
in  the  hard  trials  of  life  ?  " 

"  Let  Dicky  face  some  of  the  hard  trials,"  declared 
Dodd,  "  then  he'll  come  to  see  he  wants  help  in  them, 
like  the  rest  of  us.  His  foggy  ideas  won't  be  any  use 
then." 

Mr.  Barkell  the  elder  heaved  a  great  sigh. 

"  If  I  thought  thicky  boy  would  ever  be  led  up  to 
marriage  and  Christianity,  I'd  give  five  pounds,"  he 
said,  "  an'  gladly  go  without  all  that  money  means." 


304 


THE    PORTREEVE 


iC 


Thank  you,  father,"  answered  Dicky.  "  You're 
a  good  old  simple  soul,  an'  a  credit  to  all  you  believe, 
I  will  say.  And  you  can  mind  this,  when  you'm 
gloomy  about  me  an'  my  reckless  ways  :  that  so  long 
as  your  God's  all-powerful,  I'm  as  safe  as  the  best  of 
us.  Granted  the  great  Workman  up  aloft,  then  surely 
we  be  all  useful  tools  to  His  hand  and  all  fit  for  some 
piece  of  work.  If  He's  there.  He  uses  all  of  us  to  our 
proper  tasks.  Every  tool  don't  want  a  sharp  edge, 
remember." 

They  went  into  Okehampton  presently,  drank  tea 
with  the  mother  of  John  and  Thomas  Ball,  then  walked 
through  the  valley  and  visited  Dodd's  vegetable  ground. 

Old  Barkell  waded  about  among  the  green  stuff 
cheerfully,  and  praised  everything,  but  reserved  his 
highest  enthusiasm  for  the  ingredients  of  salads.  In 
his  head  he  puzzled  hov/  to  put  a  hint  tactfully  and 
solved  the  problem  with  success. 

"My,  what  cos  lettuces!  Never  seed  the  like. 
'Tis  a  masterpiece  of  gardening.  An'  the  spring 
onions  also.  They'll  gladden  many  a  rheumatic  heart, 
Dodd,  and  add  life  to  the  blood  of  them  as  crunches 
their  teeth  on  'em." 

"  Never  heard  that  lettuce  was  good  for  rheumatics," 
said  Wolferstan.  But  already  his  hand  went  to  his 
waistcoat  pocket  for  a  penknife. 

"My  dear  soul,  'tis  better  than  any  doctor's  trade. 
Green  stuff,  straight  from  the  earth,  do  calm  my 
pangs  something  wonderful.  Won't  grow  up-along 
in  our  garden ;  but  Dicky  will  tell  you  I'm  a  regu- 
lar rabbit  at  it  when  I  get  the  chance  —  ban't  I,  my 
son  r 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  outright  an'  have  done  with 
it? "  said  Richard. 

"  What  a  chap  !  Where's  your  manners  to  ?  "  an- 
swered Abner.    "  I  wouldn't  demean  myself,  I'm  sure. 


THE   MEETING  305 

Such  stuff  ban't  for  us ;  but  I  dare  say  If  Dodd  have 
got  a  Httle  scrubby  old  root  or  two  as  the  slugs  have 
spoiled,  he'll  be  so  kind  .  .  .  No  —  no  —  not  them 
prize  specimens  !  Ban't  fair  to  your  family,  Dodd. 
They'm  worth  twopence  apiece,  if  not  more." 

"  You're  very  welcome,"  said  the  grower.  "  An' 
glad  I'll  be  to  think  they  do  you  good." 

Abner  wagged  his  head. 

"  A  proper  neighbour  !  "  he  said.  "  My  mouth's 
watering  to  be  on  to  'em  a'ready.  Makes  me  leery 
to  look  at  'em." 

He  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  tied  up  three 
large  lettuces.     Then  he  handed  them  to  Dicky. 

They  walked  beside  the  river  presently,  for  Dodd 
and  his  wife  were  going  to  see  Mrs.  Pierce  and  bring 
Ilet's  child  back.  As  often  as  they  would  let  her,  the 
old  woman  took  charge  of  little  Henny  from  Saturday 
till  Monday,  so  that  Dodd  might  carry  Ilet  for  some 
outing  at  the  week  end. 

As  they  went,  there  passed  them  suddenly  the 
Slannings.  The  road  by  the  stream  was  narrow  and 
all  moved  shoulder  to  shoulder  for  a  moment.  Then 
Orlando  and  his  wife  walked  forward  toward  Okehamp- 
ton.  He  whistled  when  fifty  yards  away,  and  a  big 
spaniel  broke  from  a  brake  by  the  water,  shook  his 
coat,  and  paddled  after  his  master. 

Abner  deliberately  stood  still  and  eyed  the  Slannings 
with  unaffected  interest.  The  rest  of  the  party  fell 
upon  a  few  moments  of  silence  after  they  had  got  out 
of  ear-shot. 

"  Come  on,  father,  can't  'e  ?  What  are  you  staring 
at?"  said   Dicky  sharply. 

The  old  man  beamed. 

"  At  a  damn  fine  woman,  Dick.  To  think  of  that 
— just  after  we'd  been  telling  about  'em  !  My,  those 
pretty  women  —  what  an   air   goeth   with   'em  I     'Tis 


3o6  THE    PORTREEVE 

just  nature  in  'em  calling  all  the  world  to  look  an' 
admire." 

"  She  wears  wonderfully,  to  be  sure,"  said  Ilet. 
"For  my  part  I  never  seed  such  a  beautiful  creature 
afore  —  even  in  a  picture." 

"  The  'aughty  chin  of  her  !  "  murmured  old  Barkell. 
"  Did  you  mark  how  she  flirteth  her  hind  clothes  like 
a  wag-tail  ?  She'm  a  lovely  piece,  an'  hath  lovely 
garments,  without  a  doubt." 

"  Shame  upon  you,  father,"  said  Dicky. 

"  Don't  care  who  hears  me  say  so,"  answered  the 
veteran.  "  We  old  sparks  know  a  thing  or  two  ;  an' 
for  my  part  I  hope  a  fine  female  will  always  cheer  my 
heart  when  my  eyes  fall  upon  her !  Why  for  not  ? 
As  for  childer,  'twill  be  a  wrong  to  the  race  if  she 
withholds  'em  —  a  comely  an'  a  roomy  woman  as  ever 
gladdened  the  heart  of  man." 

His  weak  eyes  twinkled.  But  a  great  silence  fell  on 
the  rest  of  the  company,  and  when  Ilet  began  to  talk 
to  Richard  of  indifferent  matters,  Dodd  still  remained 
buried  in  his  own  thoughts.  His  wife  stole  a  glance  at 
him  from  time  to  time,  yet  did  not  speak  to  him,  for 
she  saw  that  darkness  was  upon  his  spirit. 

The  Slannings  had  passed  him  as  if  he  were  dust. 
He  felt  insensibly  the  difference  of  their  orders.  As 
a  bachelor  he  was  Primrose  Horn's  equal  and  behaved 
as  such.  As  a  married  man  it  seemed  that  he  was  not. 
What  had  happened  to  cause  this  difference  ?  He  felt 
it,  but  could  not  define  it.  This  man  ground  corn  for 
his  living;  and  he,  for  his  living,  grew  roots.  Wherein 
did  one  calling  stand  socially  higher  than  the  other  ? 
Examined  critically,  he  brought  the  difference  down  to 
financial  details  ;  but  he  knew  that  they  were  paltry 
details  and  unworthy  of  a  man's  thought.  Yet  he 
dwelt  upon  them.  Their  very  smallness  comforted 
him. 


THE    MEETING  307 

The  gulf  of  enmity  fixed  between  him  and  Primrose 
Slanning  did  not  trouble  him  at  this  season.  He 
hoped  that  some  day  something  might  happen  to 
bridge  it,  and  enable  the  families  at  least  to  meet  with 
outward  amity  ;  but  on  this  Sunday  walk  the  subtle 
sense  of  social  inferiority  struck  him  as  a  greater  thing. 
He  caught  himself  regretting  his  company.  He  wished 
that  he  had  not  given  Mr.  Barkell  the  lettuces,  for 
their  aspect,  bulging  out  of  the  old  man's  white  Sunday 
handkerchief  in  Dicky's  hand,  was  homely. 

Returning  in  the  evening  with  Ilet  and  her  child  to 
his  house,  he  spoke,  and  she  knew  at  once  that  the 
remark  was  his  comment  on  the  meeting  in  the 
valley. 

"  You  must  get  a  new  gown  for  Sunday  wear,  Ilet. 
I  don't  note  these  things  and  don't  care  a  button  for 
'em;  but  I  want  you  to  look  like — like  the  best 
of  'em,  when  we're  out  walking  together.  I  shall  take 
up  a  paper  for  you  —  one  of  them  women's  papers  full 
of  pictures.  We  mustn't  be  above  our  equals  in  this 
matter.  A  pretty  woman  owes  it  to  her  state  to  have 
gay  clothes." 

His  wife  smiled  under  cover  of  the  darkness. 

"  So  I  will  then,"  she  said.  "  Fine  feathers  make 
fine  birds  ;  but  I  can  never  be  as  lovely  as  her,  Dodd, 
and  you  mustn't  hope  for  it." 

He  uttered  an  exclamation  of  annoyance. 

"  What  has  she  got  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  She's 
older  than  you,  and  there  never  was  a  spark  of  soul  in 
her  face  that  I  could  see.  You  are  more  beautiful  by 
far.     If  you  had  worn  her  clothes " 

"  No  —  no,  Dodd,  that's  nonsense,  and  'tis  silly  of 
you  to  think  such  things.  They  keep  three  indoor 
servants  at  Slanning's.    One  of  'em  I  know,  and " 

"Then  you  oughtn't  to,"  he  said.    "And  I'll  thank 


3o8  THE    PORTREEVE 

you  not  to  know  her,  Ilet.  We  must  draw  the  line 
somewhere.  You  want  to  help  me,  not  hinder  me, 
surely  ?  " 

"  You  know  which  I  do." 

"  Yes,  indeed.     You're  my  everything,  Ilet." 

"  Be  frank  always  then,"  she  said.  "  Don't  let  any 
cloud  come  between  us,  because  that  would  kill  me. 
If  I  don't  please  you,  Dodd,  tell  me,  and  I'll  alter 
it  —  anything." 

"  Please  me  !  I  thank  God  for  you  every  time  I 
go  on  my  knees,"  he  answered. 

"  I  ban't  worth  that ;  but  such  a  faulty  thing  as  I 
am,  I've  no  thought  other  than  you,  Dodd,  and  no 
wish  different    to  your  wishes." 

"  'Tis  my  highest  blessing  to  know  it,"  he  an- 
swered. "  Nought  can  hurt  us  very  deep  so  long 
as  we'm  one  heart  and  soul." 


CHAPTER   V 


PATRIOTISM 


ANOTHER  year  passed  and  memory  of  bygone 
time  began  to  dull  for  Dodd  Wolferstan.  He 
throve  and  was  becoming  a  personality  at  Oke- 
hampton.  But  Bridgetstowe  men  claimed  him  and  were 
proud  of  him  and  his  doings.  In  after  days  he  looked 
back  to  the  dawn  of  the  third  year  of  his  married  life 
as  among  the  brightest  periods  that  he  had  known. 
Then  it  was  that  success  begot  indifference  to  every- 
thing but  religion.  Faith  was  now  at  its  height  with 
him,  and  he  took  no  step  without  consulting,  achieved 
no  success  without  thanking,  Providence. 

On  a  high  summer  day  certain  annual  rifle  compe- 
titions were  being  held  at  the  ranges  adjoining  his  land, 
and  Dodd,  weary  of  the  eternal  rattle  of  the  guns  and 
ringing  noise  of  the  bullets  on  the  targets  not  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  him,  made  haste  to  finish  his  work. 
There  had  been  protests  in  local  journals  as  to  the 
narrow  and  restricted  limits  of  the  range,  and  Wolfer- 
stan was  not  the  only  man  who  hoped  that  the  targets 
would  soon  be  moved  and  a  new  site  found  for  them 
upon  the  Moor.  Squads  of  volunteers  and  militiamen 
were  always  tramping  past  his  ground,  and,  though  he 
said  no  word,  he  suspected  the  latter  of  some  annoying 
thefts.  He  had  a  row  of  young  apple  trees  just  com- 
ing to  bearing,  and  their  first  crop  of  fine  fruit  dis- 
appeared mysteriously  in  a  night.  He  was  therefore 
hopeful  that  the  military  might  be  banished  from  the 

309 


3IO  THE    PORTREEVE 

valley,  and  had  even  written  a  letter  to  the  Okehamp- 
ton  journal  Indicating  a  very  suitable  tract  of  the  Moor 
for  rifle  practice. 

It  happened  that  firing  ceased  soon  after  Dodd  left 
his  market  garden  and  then  one  or  two  mounted  men 
in  uniform  and  a  lady,  also  on  horseback,  approached 
from  the  ranges.  By  the  foremost  horseman  walked  a 
man.  He  was  a  shrewd,  grey-eyed  soul  with  some 
touch  of  prosperity  about  him  ;  and  now  he  addressed 
the  rider. 

"  I  just  watched  Mr.  Wolferstan  go,  first ;  because, 
of  course,  there's  no  call  to  trouble  him  or  anybody 
for  nothing.  But  business  is  business.  Now,  if  you 
please  to  cast  your  eye  across  to  them  trees,  in  a  line 
with  the  old  ruins  up  over,  you'll  see  where  my 
ground  ends  against  the  hill." 

"  Under  the  high  bank  there  ?  " 

"  Five  hundred  yards  from  where  us  be  standing, 
or  may  be  four-seventy.  'Tis  a  narrow  strip,  as  you 
see,  hemmed  by  the  river,  but  fiat  as  the  back  of  your 
hand  if  his  trees  and  bean-poles  an*  stuff  was  taken 
off." 

Orlando  Slanning  turned  back  and  spoke  to  one 
who  rode  beside  his  wife. 

"  Look  here.  Colonel ;  here  we  are.  The  straight 
bit  to  the  trees  —  simply  an  extension  of  the  old  range, 
if  we  move  it  to  the  right.  Then  you  get  all  you 
want  and  more." 

The  soldier  eyed  the  ground  critically. 

"  It  is  so,"  he  said.     "  But  would  it  be  safe  ?  " 

"Absolutely.  The  high  ground  swells  up  imme- 
diately behind  and  makes  a  natural  barrier.  No  bullet 
could  go  fifty  yards  beyond  the  targets  unless  a  man 
fired  into  the  air." 

"  'Tis  a  sort  of  hanging  wood,  your  honour,"  ex- 
plained Dodd  Wolferstan's  landlord. 


PATRIOTISM  311 

Then  Primrose  spoke. 

"  The  alternative  is  Dartmoor,  and  that  has  so 
many  disadvantages.  Here  the  men  can  get  upon  the 
ranges  in  twenty  minutes  from  the  station." 

The  others  agreed. 

"  I  must  tell  you  there's  no  question  of  renting, 
Captain  Slanning,"  said  Mr.  Thatcher,  the  owner.  "  I 
covenanted  according  with  Mr.  Wolferstan.  'Tis  clear 
between  us  that  he  has  first  refusal  to  rent  and  the 
right  to  hold  on  to  the  ground  for  four  years  more 
without  increasing  rent.  But  selling's  another  mat- 
ter. There's  nothing  against  me  selling  the  ground. 
Of  course  'tis  valuable  land.  You  see  the  tilth  he's 
got  it  in,  and  you  know  the  wonders  he  does  wi'  spring 
vegetables  and  such  like." 

"  Government  will  go  to  the  Duchy  and  rent  a  bit 
of  the  Moor  cheap,"  prophesied  Slanning's  command- 
ing officer. 

"  But  Government  would  be  very  glad  if  some  pub- 
lic-spirited man  secured  this  ground  for  the  range  ? " 
asked  Primrose. 

"  Delighted,  of  course.  The  War  Office  would 
thank  him.  There  have  been  some  noble  things  done 
by  private  individuals  since  the  cry  for  rifle-ranges." 

"  Then  look  to  me,"  said  Orlando.  "  Yes,  my  wife 
and  I  are  one  in  this  matter,  and  if  experts  agree  this 
is  just  what  is  wanted,  I  —  or  rather  we  —  will  give  it 
to  the  nation." 

"  How  is  the  law  ?  "  asked  Primrose. 

"  Well,  I  got  Lawyer  Newcombe  to  run  over  my 
deed  last  night,"  answered  Thatcher.  "  He  drawed 
it,  and  'tis  crystal  clear,  like  all  his  writings.  It  stands 
thus :  Mr.  Wolferstan's  got  the  right  to  the  land  for 
four  year  more ;  and,  if  1  sell  it,  he  must  have  first 
refusal  of  purchase." 

Orlando's  face  fell. 


312  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  But  hang  it,  this  is  a  national  matter.  He  can't 
stand  up  and  insist  on  growing  his  rotten  cabbages 
on  ground  that  is  wanted  for  the  Service  ? " 

"  Was  any  price  ever  mentioned  for  this  land  ?  " 
asked  Primrose. 

Mr.  Thatcher  hesitated.  The  soldiers,  realising 
that  delicate  questions  now  asked  for  delicate  answers, 
edged  their  horses  away  and  went  out  of  earshot. 

"As  to  price  —  business  is  business,"  said  Mr. 
Thatcher.  "  I  doubt  Dodd  Wolferstan  could  buy  it ; 
but  if  'twas  a  question  of  buying  or  going,  he'd  make 
an  effort  to  borrow  the  money  somehow." 

"  What  is  it  worth  ?  " 

"  What  'twill  fetch,  ma'am." 

«  Ah  !  —  I  see.  You  are  not  going  to  be  patriotic, 
Mr.  Thatcher." 

"  I  don't  say  that !      I  don't  say  that !  " 

"  Suppose  now,  being  a  leading  man  at  Okehampton 
and  a  keen  old  volunteer  yourself,  that  you  met  my 
husband  and  shared  the  glory  of  handing  this  ground 
over  to  the  National  Rifle  Association.  Wouldn't  that 
be  to  your  eternal  credit  ?  " 

Mr.  Thatcher  looked  very  sly. 

"  Trust  Farmer  Horn's  darter  to  be  a  woman  of 
business,"  he  said. 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Suppose  now  that  you  say  the 
ground  is  worth  two  thousand  pounds,  and  we  offer 
you  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  and  you  put  five  hundred 
pounds  to  it  out  of  your  own  pocket  ?  Then  you  are 
a  patriot  for  evermore." 

"  But  if  Wolferstan  is  to  buy,  then  you  would  expect 
the  whole  of  the  money  from  him,  for  there's  nothing 
patriotic  in  cabbages,"  added  Orlando. 

"You  can't  well  refuse,"  continued  Primrose  quietly. 
"  Even  if  we  offer  the  same  as  he  does,  you  can't  refuse, 
Mr.  Thatcher.     For  that  matter,  when  he  hears  the 


PATRIOTISM  3,3 

excellent  purpose  to  which  the  land  is  to  be  put,  per- 
haps Mr.  Wolferstan  will  make  no  difficulty." 

"  Don't  you  think  that,  ma'am  !  Why,  he's  sunk  a 
little  fortune  here.  'Tis  his  backbone  like.  He's  get- 
ting out  a  catalogue  come  autumn,  and  going  to  adver- 
tise his  seeds  and  roots.  He've  got  a  new  cross  onion 
called  '  Okehampton  Castle '  that  he's  going  to  put  on 
the  market  in  a  year's  time.  'Twill  be  the  very  mis- 
chief for  him  to  clear  out.  You've  got  him  against 
you  —  be  sure  of  that." 

"  Howunfortunate,poor  man,"  said  Primrose.  "  But, 
you  see,  straight  shooting  is  more  important  than  even 
a  new  onion.  And  Okehampton  has  such  a  name  for 
patriotism.  The  past  history  of  it  is  full  of  great 
deeds." 

"Til  visit  him,"  said  Mr.  Thatcher.  "I'll  have  a 
tell  about  it  this  night.  1  shall  give  him  first  refusal, 
according  to  the  documents;  but  as  to  whether  TU 
have  a  hand  in  it — I'll  say  nothing." 

"Don't  know  that  I  want  you  to  —  really,"  an- 
swered Slanning.  "  For  some  things  I'd  rather  do  it 
single-handed.  However,  that  can  be  looked  into 
later.  Let  us  hear  what  the  gardener  says  as  soon  as 
possible." 

Husband  and  wife  rode  off  together,  and  Mr. 
Thatcher  returned  homeward.  He  had  not  the  least 
intention  of  being  patriotic.  To  him  local  or  even 
national  praise  was  tinkling  brass  and  worthless.  He 
merely  desired  to  see  whether  Wolferstan  or  Slanning 
would  pay  most  for  his  land;  and  upon  that  question 
he  felt  little  uncertainty. 

Slanning  was  now  out  with  his  corps,  and  overflowed 
with  martial  enthusiasm,  as  he  did  once  a  year  when  the 
period  of  training  recurred.  He  rode  part  of  the  way 
home  with  his  wife,  and  they  discussed  the  pending  enter- 
prise from  a  private  point  of  view.     Such  a  purchase 


314  THE    PORTREEVE 

showed  two  aspects,  and  the  idea  had  originated  with 
Primrose  and  not  her  husband. 

"  It's  a  jolly  big  thing,"  he  said,  "but  all  the  same, 
if  you  really  like  it  —  for  your  own  reasons  —  so  do  I 
for  mine.  It  would  open  people's  eyes.  Why,  Par- 
liament has  thanked  public-spirited  people  for  much 
less.  *  Munificent  gift,'  'patriotism,'  'Imperial  inter- 
ests,' and  all  that." 

She  nodded. 

"  It's  a  frightful  score  off  him  too,  Prim  ;  and  the 
beauty  of  it  is  that  he  can't  say  a  word.  All  the  same, 
he'll  see  through  it." 

She  laughed. 

"  It  would  be  waste  of  money  and  thought  if  he 
didn't.  He's  getting  such  a  big  man  now,  that  it's 
worth  beginning." 

"  By  God  !  —  talk  about  a  spider  being  patient ! 
But  suppose  after  all  he  doesn't  see  the  point  ?  That 
would  be  an  awful  sell." 

"He'll  see  the  point,  and  feel  it;  and  the  beauty 
of  the  arrangement  is  that  nobody  else  can.  The  more 
he  grumbles,  the  less  people  will  sympathise  with  him. 
Only  one  other  person  is  likely  to  be  annoyed.  That 
is  my  father.      But  we  can't  help  it." 

"He's  such  a  Little  Englander.  In  figures  I  sup- 
pose it  means  about  two  thousand  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  or  more,  if  necessary.  Wolferstan  can  only 
borrow  up  to  a  point  that  would  still  leave  him  able 
to  work  the  land  at  profit.  He's  got  nothing  to 
borrow  on,  I   imagine,  except  his  produce." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see  how  he  shapes." 

"  It  will  be  rather  a  sharp  surprise,  for  he'll  think  all 
is  over  by  this  time.  I  know  so  well  what  is  in  his 
mind  when  he  gives  the  past  a  thought." 

"  What  a  brain  you've  got !  " 

"  He  thinks  that  the  little  reverse  at  Okehampton 


PATRIOTISM  315 

Show,  when  I  took  the  cup,  was  my  revenge  !  He 
says  to  himself,  '  How  like  a  woman  to  plot  that  and 
carry  it  through  !  Now  she's  comforted  by  the  thought 
that  she  scored  off  me  and  took  the  cup  I  had  as  good 
as  won.'  He  thinks  that  was  the  end  instead  of  the 
beginning.  He's  had  three  years' grace.  Now  we  can 
lay  on  the  hounds." 

"  It's  a  terrific  revenge.  You'll  take  his  ground  and 
have  done  with  him  —  eh  ?  " 

"You're  as  bad  as  he  is!  What  a  short  memory 
you've  got,  Orlando.  Done  with  him  !  Have  we 
done  with  the  fox  when  he  breaks  cover?  I'm  just 
picking  up  the  reins  !  " 

"  Poor  devil !  "  said  Orlando.  He  knew  a  p-ood 
deal  more  about  Primrose  now  than  when  he  married 
her ;  but  he  loved  her  no  less.  She  had  immensely 
strengthened  and  fortified  his  own  position.  Happily 
for  himself,  he  was  of  the  sort  that  is  good  material  for 
a  stronger  hand.  He  never  ceased  to  be  himself  — 
impulsive,  silly,  vain,  large-hearted;  but  her  skill 
evoked  some  new  melody  from  the  instrument.  She 
brought  out  the  best,  concealed  the  worst,  and  found 
him  a  man  in  every  way  well  suited  to  her.  Their 
tastes  were  much  akin,  and  she  could  always  keep  him 
in  a  good  temper.  To  preserve  the  fire  of  enmity 
burning  in  him  against  any  human  thing  was  more 
difficult  ;  but  this  also  she  accomplished,  and  Slanning, 
to  please  her,  when  she  had  gone  out  of  her  way  to 
please  him,  would  still  blaze  out  into  spurious  wrath 
about  Dodd  Wolferstan.  Yet  the  prosperous  w^orld 
and  his  own  easy  fortune  did  much  to  make  him  gentle 
and  large-hearted,  so  that  sometimes  Primrose  felt  that 
even  her  strength  would  not  be  equal  to  overcoming 
his  inertia  in  all  directions.  Morally  his  code  was  lax, 
but  to  do  anything  unsportsmanlike  instantly  shocked 
him,  and   a  proposal  in   that  direction    had   certainly 


3i6  THE   PORTREEVE 

wakened  the  most  stubborn  resistance  of  which  he  was 
capable.  This  she  knew,  and  was  far  too  wise  to  in- 
flict any  unnecessary  strain.  But  the  time  to  strike 
grew  ripe  and  the  weapon  was  in  her  hand.  Utmost 
deftness  marked  her  choice.  Twice,  quite  alone,  she 
had  visited  Wolferstan's  nurseries  and  satisfied  herself 
of  their  relation  to  the  rifle-ranges.  The  event  re- 
corded was  the  result.  As  to  price,  she  knew  the 
exact  financial  position  of  her  husband,  and  was  aware 
that  he  might  easily  accomplish  the  sale  without  hurt 
to  himself  The  sum  involved  represented  half  of  her 
own  marriage  jointure. 

Primrose  left  Orlando  at  the  edge  of  the  camp  on 
Bridgetstowe  Common.  He  rode  to  his  tent  and  she 
proceeded  to  '  Slanning's,'  where  the  mill  lay  some 
miles  distant,  on  the  little  river  Lew. 

And  that  night  Mr.  Thatcher  climbed  up  the  tre- 
mendous hill  behind  Okehampton,  and  mopped  his 
head  and  breathed  awhile  before  entering  the  gate  and 
knocking  at  the  door  of  Dodd's  house.  Ilet  answered 
his  summons  and  bade  him  welcome. 

"Hullo!"  said  Wolferstan.  " 'Tis  Thatcher  — 
eh  ?  What  does  he  come  for,  I  wonder  ?  Get  the 
bottle  of  whiskey,  Ilet.     I  lay  he'll  want  a  drink." 

"  'Tis  a  thirsty  climb,"  confessed  Mr.  Thatcher. 
"  But  us'll  leave  the  drink  for  a  minute.  I'm  come 
on   business,  Wolferstan." 

"  Ban't  quarter  day  yet." 

"  No,  an'  that's  not  the  matter.  No  man  ever  paid 
his  rent  more  regular  than  you.     And  a  low  rent  too." 

"  That's  as  may  be,  master.  'Twas  a  fair  rent  for 
the  land  three  year  ago ;  but  who  have  made  the  land 
what  it  is  ?  To  charge  me  for  improving  your  prop- 
erty might  be  a  trick  worthy  of  Duchy,  but  not  worthy 
of  you.     Come,  now,  what's  amiss  ?     Out  with  it." 


PATRIOTISM  317 

"  Nothing  —  nothing  at  all  —  not  from  my  point  of 
view ;  but  there's  movements  in  the  air.  No  place 
stands  still  —  least  of  all  this  place.  Never  such  a  lot 
of  changes  as  there  be  always  going  on  here.  First, 
how  does  it  stand  between  us  ?  "lis  like  this.  If  I'm 
wrong  say  so.  Come  Michaelmas,  you've  the  right 
to  hold  my  land  up  to  four  more  year  at  the  same  rent." 

"Yes;  an'  of  course  I'm  going  to  do  it.  When 
the  seven  year  have  run,  if  God  wills,  I  shall  be  in  a 
case  to  buy  your  land.  That  you'll  be  glad  to  hear,  I 
know." 

"  I  always  expected  It ;  but  how  about  things  if 
somebody  else  wants  my  land  sooner?  Suppose  I've 
had  an  offer  for  it  this  day  ?  " 

"  That's  a  startler.  All  the  same,  I  get  first  re- 
fusal." 

"  For  that  reason  I'm  here.  We've  been  very  good 
friends,  and  long  may  we  bide  so.  But  business  is 
business.  To  be  plain,  there's  parties  want  that  land, 
Wolferstan,  and  I  warn  you  they'm  very  much  set 
upon  it.  The  law  says  I  can  sell,  and  that  the  owner 
won't  be  bound  by  my  agreement  with  you.  But,  to 
protect  you,  it  very  properly  gives  you  first  refusal. 
I'm  very  sorry  if  it  ain't  convenient  to  you  to  buy, 
but  I  can't  lose  ready  money  for  friendship.  More 
would  you." 

Wolferstan  was  much  perturbed.  He  called  in  Ilet 
from  the  kitchen  and  told  her  of  the  position.  She 
also  showed  concern. 

"  Anything's  better  than  that  after  all  you've  done," 
she  said.  "  We  must  strain  every  penny  for  certain. 
What  be  you  going  to  ax  for  the  land,  Mr.  Thatcher  .''  " 

"  Now  we'm  in  the  centre  of  the  bush,"  answered 
their  visitor.  "  And  I  will  have  a  spot  out  of  the 
bottle,  if  'tis  the  same  to  you." 

Wolferstan    helped    him,   watched    him   drink,  and 


3i8  THE    PORTREEVE 

waited  for  him  to  speak.  But  his  answer  was  indefi- 
nite. 

"  'Tis  a  case  in  which  there's  not  much  for  me  to 
say.  Where  land's  the  matter  'tis  not  so  much  what 
a  man  axes  as  what  he's  offered  nowadays." 

"Valued  at  my  rental,  you  ought  to  get  fifteen 
hundred." 

Mr.  Thatcher  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  And  Okehampton  growing  by  leaps  and  bounds  ? 
No,  no  !  That's  a  lot  too  low,  Wolferstan.  Even  I 
—  a  man  too  open-handed  for  sense  always  —  even  I 
wouldn't  like  to  part  under  two  thousand  and  upward. 
But,  as  I  say,  'tis  the  hunger  of  the  parties  settles  the 
price.  A  bit  of  ground  will  often  go  a  long  way  above 
open  market  value,  by  reason  of  a  man's  whim  or  a 
woman's  fancy.  I  don't  say  it  will  be  so  with  me  — 
no  such  luck.  But  them  in  question  want  the  ground, 
and  they  be  rich  and  very  much  in  earnest." 

"For  house-building?"  asked  Ilet. 

"  No,  not  that." 

"  For  gardening  then  ?  " 

"  Not  that  neither.  Don't  ax  me  anything  about  it. 
I  can't  divulge  nought  in  fairness  an'  justice.  But 
there  'tis.  I  told  'em  you  had  first  call  on  it  and  that 
I'd  see  you.  So  you've  got  to  make  a  price.  Then, 
if  they  go  better,  'tis  theirs  :  if  they  won't  go  higher, 
'tis  yours." 

"I'd  like  to  know  the  law  about  that,"  declared 
Wolferstan.  "  Why,  perhaps  they'll  only  wait  till 
they  hear  my  price  and  then  offer  fifty  more,  and  so 
beat  me.     Surely  that  wouldn't  be  fair  ?  " 

"Why  not?  'Tis  merely  sale  by  action.  If  you 
go  over  them  after  their  bid,  then  they'll  have  to  bid 
again.  I  want  to  be  all  fair  an'  above  board  as  my 
nature  is.  If  the  land's  going  to  turn  into  a  good 
thing  for  me  —  well  —  every  dog  has  his  day." 


PATRIOTISM  319 

Silence  fell  between  them  and  lasted  for  some  mo- 
ments. Mr.  Thatcher  finished  his  whiskey  and  brought 
out  his  pipe. 

"  Might  1  trouble  you  for  a  lucifer  match,  ma'am  ?  " 
he  said  to  Ilet. 

She  brought  him  a  box  and  he  thanked  her  and 
hoped   the  little  girl   was   doing   well. 

"  I  seed  her  down-along  wi'  you  last  week,"  he 
said.     "  A  proper  little  fairy,  wi'  eyes  like  di'monds." 

Ilet  smiled  and  her  heart  was  warm  at  the  praise. 
Wolferstan  worked  at  some  figures. 

"If  you  can  bide  ten  minutes,  I'll  just  go  into  it," 
he  said.  "  I  hate  to  have  anything  like  this  hanging 
over  me.  'Tis  a  very  serious  business  indeed  from  my 
point  of  view,  and  quite  unexpected.  I  should  have 
to  borrow,  and  that's  a  thing  I  hate.  I  must  mortgage 
the  land  to  get  it  at  all.  But  have  it  I  must.  'Twould 
mean  a  very  great  loss  to  go  out  in  six  months  now." 

"  I  only  hope  you  can  go  above  them,"  said  Mr. 
Thatcher  guardedly.  The  sentiment  was  a  safe  one 
from  every  point  of  view. 

"  Who  be  the  parties  ?  "  asked  Ilet. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  must  name  no  names  yet ;  not  at  this 
stage  of  affairs.  They'm  set  on  the  land;  and  this  I'll 
say  :  they've  got  a  very  public-spirited  idea  in  their 
heads,  and  Okehampton  will  be  on  their  side  —  also 
the  nation." 

Dodd's  pen  scratched  along.  His  face  was  con- 
tracted and  great  anxiety  sat  upon  it. 

At  last  he  sat  up  and  spoke. 

"I'll  give  you  seventeen  fifty  for  the  land,"  he 
said. 

"  No  more —  not  even  on  compulsion  ?  " 

"  Not  a  penny  more.  'Twould  be  to  cripple  myself 
too  much.  I've  got  ideas  as  to  the  future,  and  they 
go    beyond    market   gardening,    as    you    know.      My 


320  THE    PORTREEVE 

thought  was  when  the  seven  years  was  out  to  buy  and 
build.  But,  even  allowing  for  improvement  in  land 
value,  which  is  very  uncertain,  the  place  won't  be 
worth  much  more  four  years  hence.  Anyway  that's 
all  I  can  do  about  it." 

"  Suppose  they  say  eighteen  hundred  ?  " 

"  Then  they  can  have  it  at  that." 

Mr.  Thatcher  was  disappointed.  He  had  hoped 
that  Wolferstan  would  offer  two  thousand,  and  that 
Slanning  would  therefore  have  to  pay  still  more. 

"  You  must  take  into  account  the  ways  and  means 
of  borrowing,"  he  said.  "  I  might  help  you  there. 
I  might  even  lend  a  bit  myself  on  easy  terms.  You 
might,  for  instance,  raise  two  thousand  cheaper  from 
me  than  seventeen  fifty  from  another  party." 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  that,  and  I  won't  go 
into  it,  and  I  won't  borrow  from  you  whether  or  no. 
That's  my  figure,  and  if  I've  got  to  go,  the  sooner  I 
know  it  the  better." 

Mr.  Thatcher  perceived  that  his  tenant  was  annoyed. 
He  rose  and  expressed  a  very  real  regret. 

"  Then  I'm  much  afraid  'tis  all  up.  Two  thousand 
was  the  figure  named  by  me  to  begin  talking  about, 
and  since  you  won't  go  better,  I  must  see  if  they  will. 
I've  got  my  say  in  the  matter  too.  I  ban't  going  to 
give  the  land  away." 

He  departed,  and  Ilet  and  Dodd  talked  together 
into  the  small  hours  of  another  day.  Every  theory  of 
this  purchase  that  ingenuity  could  devise,  they  put 
forward  ;  and  among  others  they  hit  the  right  one ; 
but  those  responsible  for  it  they  did  not  guess  at. 


CHAPTER   VI 


GOOD    AND    BAD 


NEXT  Sunday  Dodd  and  Ilet  went  to  church 
that  they  might  pray  very  earnestly  about  the 
cloud  that  had  risen  in  their  lives.  Wolferstan 
lacked  humour,  and  this  want  often  argues  erroneous 
perspective  of  outlook  both  upon  mundane  and  spiritual 
matters.  Now  the  man  adopted  his  Master's  words, 
and  not  perceiving  the  ludicrous  disparity  of  ideas, 
prayed  that  this  cup  might  pass  from  him.  In  the 
same  breath  he  declared  to  God  that  he  was  willing  to 
drink  it  if  necessary. 

Within  ten  minutes  of  leaving  church,  he  found  that 
he  would  have  to  do  so.  Mr.  Thatcher  met  him  under 
the  avenues  of  All  Saints  on  the  hill,  and,  having  made 
an  apology  for  touching  business  upon  the  Lord's 
Day,  informed  Wolferstan  that  '  the  parties '  had 
offered  two  thousand,  and  that  he  did  not  feel  justified 
in  refusing. 

The  younger  man  was  in  a  resigned  mood  for  the 
moment,  and  the  motion  of  prayer  remained  with  him. 

"  If  it's  got  to  be  —  it  must  be,"  he  said.  "  There's 
motive  behind  it." 

He  spoke  of  his  God's  motive,  but  Ilet  misunder- 
stood. 

"  Of  course.  And  I  suppose  Mr.  Thatcher  can  tell 
us  now  what  the  motive  is,  and  what's  to  be  done  with 
that  beautiful  garden  of  yours?" 

The  owner  reflected. 

Y  ■^21 


322  THE    PORTREEVE 

"I  should  think  I  might — in  confidence.  Don't 
name  it,  mind.  The  announcement  must  come  from 
him,  and  he's  the  sort  as  likes  his  trumpet  to  be  heard. 
'Tis  to  be  bought  for  the  nation  !  " 

"The  nation!  What  do  the  nation  want  with  that 
scrap  of  ground  ?  "  asked  Wolferstan. 

"  For  shooting.  The  warriors  have  cast  their  eyes 
upon  it,  and  'tis  discovered  that  if  my  land  be  thrown 
into  the  rifle  range,  'twill  make  it  so  good  as  any  this 
side  Exeter.  Then  everything  will  be  vitty  and  us 
shan't  have  no  call  to  move  the  butts  up-along." 

"  The  very  thing  we  thought  it  might  be  !  "  ex- 
claimed Ilet. 

"  Sir  Thomas  Carew,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  That  keen  soldier,  Captain  Slanning 
of  Slanning's.  *  Okehampton  have  found  the  winner 
of  the  Queen's  Cup  afore  to-day  ;  and  it  shall  again,' 
he  says  to  me.  So  he  be  going  to  purchase  my 
ground,  and  no  doubt  his  name  will  ring  in  the  land 
come  presently,  when  'tis  known.  But  mind  you  don't 
say  no  word  about  it  yet.  'Twould  dim  the  glory  if  it 
leaked  out." 

Ilet  stole  a  glance  at  Wolferstan.  She  understood 
the  thought  in  his  mind,  and  how  much  more  the  state- 
ment must  mean  than  the  speaker  could  guess. 

"  Well,  land's  land,"  she  said,  "  and  there's  plenty 
to  be  got." 

"Plenty  —  plenty.  And  time  to  turn  round  also. 
You  can  clear  by  inches.  You'll  lose  on  winter  plant- 
ing I'm  afraid,  unless  you  can  get  some  new  ground 
quick." 

"  Lose  !  Lose  enough  —  lose  all  the  tons  and  tons 
of  farmyard  stuff  I've  put  into  your  ground. 
The  crops  be  nought.  'Tis  what's  under  'em  have 
cost  the  money.  I  wasn't  one  to  eat  the  eyes 
out  of  the  place  then  give  it  back  to  you  more  naked 


GOOD    AND    BAD  323 

than  at  first.  I  wasn't  .  .  .  but  'tis  gone,  so  all's 
said." 

"  You  must  take  it  in  a  large  spirit.  You  must  look 
all  round  it,  Mr.  Wolferstan,  if  1  may  so  say." 

Dodd  laughed  without  merriment. 

"  Yes,  I  look  all  round  it,"  he  answered. 

Mr.  Thatcher  was  glad  to  leave  them,  and  presently 
husband  and  wife  passed  through  the  valley  by  their 
nursery  garden  on  the  way  homeward.  The  same 
thought  brooded  in  both  their  minds,  and  when  Wolf- 
erstan spoke,  his  wife  understood  the  allusion. 

"  To  think  she  smelled  that  out !  What  a  power 
of  waiting  !  Or  was  it  the  idea  woke  up  a  sleeping 
wish  ?  Was  it  the  chance  to  hurt  made  her  feel  the 
will  to  hurt?  Or  was  the  will  always  there  —  only 
wanting  the  chance  ?  " 

"We  must  think  as  we  pray  to  think,  Dodd.  We 
must  try  to  get  charity  into  this,  though  'tis  cruel  hard. 
Maybe  'twas  but  an  accident  and  there's  no  inner 
meaning.  You  know  he's  a  hot-headed  young  man. 
If  he  wants  to  make  a  stir  and  get  well  thought  upon, 
why  shouldn't  he  ?     There  may  be  no  malice  in  it." 

" 'Tis  good  to  hear  you,"  he  said,  more  gently. 
"  For  all  1  taught  you  to  come  to  Church,  you're 
bigger-hearted  than  me  really.  But  I  was  terrible 
fretted  to  hear  Thatcher;  though,  for  that  matter,  I've 
felt  somehow  since  first  this  came  up  that  'twas  all  over. 
It  cuts  so  many  ways,  even  if  Slanning  was  straight 
and  she  had  nought  to  do  with  it.  'Tis  bad  enough  and 
a  serious  throw-back  to  my  future  plans  ;  but  if  she's 
at  bottom,  then  that  makes  it  ten  thousand  times  worse." 

"  Take  it  for  granted  she's  not,  and  it  don't  look  so 
bad.  And  whether  she  be  or  no,  what  you  said  as  we 
went  down  to  church  still  holds." 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  " 

"  You  was  in  one  of  your   trustful,  patient  moods. 


324  THE    PORTREEVE 

when  you'm  at  your  strongest,  my  dear.  You  said, 
'  whether  it  goes  or  remains,  'tis  the  will  of  my  God.' 
And  han't  that  so  still  ^  Whether  'tis  took  for  open 
high  motives,  or  for  secret  wicked  ones,  the  outlook  is 
the  same." 

"  Not  so,"  he  answered.  "  In  the  one  case  'tis  the 
fortune  of  war;  in  the  other  it  means  that  I've  still  got 
an  enemy  as  greedy  and  as  patient  as  the  grave. 
They're  rich  and  she  has  her  will  always.  This  might 
happen  again." 

"  Afeard .''  That's  not  like  you.  Ban't  right  on 
your  side?  Granted  the  worst:  that  this  is  her  thought 
and  worked  for  spite.  What  then  ?  What's  the  end 
of  the  wicked  ?  Whose  will  comes  out  top  at  the  last  ? 
Trust  your  God.  In  the  end  ban't  the  man  that  does 
the  wrong  punished  —  not  the  man  that  suffers  it  ?  I 
scorn  them  !  I  pity  them.  Think  what  poison  be  in 
their  hearts." 

Her  large  views  fortified  him. 

"  Even  such  things  I've  said  to  you,  and  now  my 
bread  returns  to  me  after  many  days,"  he  answered. 
"  I'll  not  scorn  them —  I'll  not  even  blame  them,  Ilet. 
What's  the  good  of  being  a  working  Christian  if  the 
works  get  out  of  gear  at  the  first  strain  ^  I'll  go  my 
way  as  I've  gone  it  aforetime.  I'll  put  a  brave  face  on 
this  reverse  and  read  it  as  a  healthy  lesson.  I'll  not 
put  one  bad  motive  into  them.  I'll  not  think  of 
her  in  the  matter.  I'll  say  that  he  has  done  a  sen- 
sible thing  with  his  money,  and  be  among  them  to 
pat  him  on  the  back.  What  d'you  think  of  that, 
Ilet !  " 

"  'Tis  what  I  knew  you'd  come  to,  Dodd." 

"  I've  always  been  slow  to  think  evil,  and  I  always 
will  be.  There'll  happen  good  out  of  this.  Things 
was  going  along  so  well  —  too  well." 

Things  ought  to  go  well  when  a  man  works  like 


(( 


GOOD    AND    BAD  325 

you  work  and  has  such  a  knack  of  pleasing  people," 
she  declared. 

"  'Tis  a  knack,  as  you  say  —  a  gift  and,  like  all 
good  gifts,  from  the  same  High  Place.  Here's  Mrs. 
Pierce  an*  the  little  maid  to  meet  us." 

Old  Henny  happened  to  be  staying  with  the  Wolfer- 
stans  for  a  month,  to  see  how  she  liked  it.  In  the 
event  of  her  finding  the  life  agreeable,  it  was  under- 
stood  that  she  would  shortly  come  to  live  with  them. 

"  You'm  late,"  she  cried,  "  so  me  an'  baaby  corned 
to  meet  'e.  The  potatoes  will  all  fall  abroad  if  us 
ban't  quick." 

"  Land's  gone,  mother,"  said  Wolferstan. 

"Oh  dear! — what  ill  fortune!  I  lay  now  you'll 
never  find  nought  to  suit  'e  near  enough  to  home; 
then  you'll  be  off  again." 

"  Don't  think  it.  We  stop  here,  and  I  hope  you 
will  also." 

They  discussed  the  situation  during  dinner,  and 
afterwards  husband  and  wife  walked  out  together, 
and  Mrs.  Pierce  made  Abel's  little  daughter  read  out 
of  her  Bible.  This  was  daily  Sunday  work,  and  the 
child  had  to  learn  a  few  words  at  the  same  time. 
Little  Henny  struggled  with  the  long  words  and 
asked  many  questions.  She  was  nearly  five  years 
old  now,  and  had  proved  a  very  intelligent  child. 

Ilet  walked  with  Dodd  halfway  down  the  hill. 
He  was  going  to  his  class. 

She  said  a  great  thing  as  they  parted. 

"  Mind  and  come  back  to  tea.  The  Barkells  walk 
over  and  Jane  Perry  man  very  likely.  And,  Dodd  — 
'tis  funny  I  should  choose  this  minute;  but  I've  put  it 
off  and  off  for  fear  I  was  wrong;  and  now  I'll  tell  you. 
What  you've  hoped  for  is  going  to  happen.  There's 
a  baby  coming.  That's  good  news,  I  suppose,  for 
this  morning's  bad  news,  and  it  will  make  'e  cheerful 


326  THE    PORTREEVE 

company  this  evening,  I  hope.  Say  you'm  glad  — 
but  well  I  know  you  are." 

"  Really  and  truly  ?  " 

"  Not  a  doubt,  Dodd." 

"  Praise  God  —  praise  God  for  it !  I  must  put 
my  arms  round  both  of  you  !  Here,  come  over  this 
stile  a  minute  into  the  field.  I  could  shout  and  dance 
for  joy  !  You  clever  woman  !  Do  'e  see  how  Heaven 
balances  a  man's  lot  and  don't  give  him  more  good  or 
evil  than  he  can  bear  at  one  time  ?  Kiss  me  !  Oh, 
Ilet,  my  dear,  how  small  this  do  make  the  t'other 
thing  !  What's  the  loss  of  the  garden  to  the  winning 
of  this  ?  Let  me  tell  'em,  mind.  If  they  come  afore 
I  get  back,  say  nought  till  1  do." 

He  rattled  on  and  immense  joy  sounded  in  his 
voice  and  looked  out  of  his  eyes.  His  class  had  an 
easy  lesson.  He  forgave  offences,  laughed  and  jested, 
nearly  told  them  that  his  wife  was  with  child. 

Then  he  strode  up  the  hill  again  and  arrived  very 
hot  and  very  happy.  This  day  should  be  all  good 
henceforward,  because  the  thing  that  he  had  much 
desired  was  at  last  to  happen.  He  had  already  affirmed 
his  mind  to  disappointment  and  given  up  hope  as  the 
years  passed  :  now  the  immense  incentive  of  family 
was  destined  to  crown  his  work  and  strengthen  his  arm. 
He  would  look  at  Pierce's  daughter  hungrily  no  more. 
There  was  coming  one  to  build  for ;  one  to  leave  a 
name  for  ;  one  who  would  be  proud  of  his  father  and 
look  to  it  that  when  the  parent  passed,  the  name  of 
Dodd  Wolferstan  should  not  be  forgotten. 

His  friends  were  assembled,  and  even  Mr.  Perry- 
man,  now  recovered  from  illness,  had  driven  over  with 
his  grand-daughter.  But  Dodd  did  not  go  first  to 
them.  He  hurried  up  to  his  bedroom,  washed  his  hot 
face,  brushed  his  hair  and  then  knelt  down  and  thanked 
God  with  heartfelt  fervour. 


GOOD    AND    BAD  327 

When  he  came  among  them,  he  delayed  but  a  short 
time  before  proclaiming  his  great  secret. 

The  matter  of  his  garden  he  did  not  mention 
immediately,  but  presently  Ilet  broke  the  news  and  all 
expressed  a  lively  interest.  Sorrow  for  Wolferstan 
was  a  little  lost  in  excitement  at  the  intelligence. 

"  'Tis  his  first  step  to  becoming  a  public  man,"  said 
Dicky.     "They  always  begin  so,  if  they've  got  money. 

Of  course  there  may  be  another "      He  broke  off, 

conscious  that  Wolferstan  need  not  be  reminded  of  the 
possibilities  that  lurked  behind  this  event. 

"  There  ought  to  be  compensation,  and  I  should  ax 
for  it,"  said  Mr.  Ferryman.  "  You've  poured  the  fat 
of  farmyards  into  that  ground,  and  the  lime  you've 
put  in  was  a  wonder,  not  to  name  guano." 

"'Tis  bad  luck  —  especially  this  minute,  because 
there's  a  little  one  coming,  you  see,"  said  Wolferstan 
with  great  affectation  of  indifference. 

"  Dash  my  old  wig  !  "  cried  Abner  Barkell.  "  Be 
there  a  thunder  planet  reigning?  What  with  the 
funny  weather  and  such  a  flood  of  news  all  to  once,  we 
live  in  a  regular  whirl  of  tidings.  Good  luck,  Ilet ! 
'Tis  a  great  and  fine  thing !  " 

"  There,"  said  old  Henny,  "  and  never  told  me  a 
word  of  it !  Do  'e  hear  that  ?  "  she  asked  the  child  on 
her  lap.     "  A  little  dinky  brother  or  sister  for  'e  !  " 

"  Doan't  want  no  bruvvers,"  said  small  Henny. 
"  I  doan't  like  li'l  bwoys." 

"  Wish  you  both  joy,  I'm  sure,"  declared  Dicky. 

"  An'  so  do  I,"  said  Jane  Ferryman. 

Ilet,  a  woman  of  no  self-consciousness,  thanked 
them  all  for  their  kind  hopes. 

"  Good  and  bad  have  come  to  us  at  a  breath,"  she 
said.  "  For  'tis  very  cruel  hard  us  have  to  turn  out 
of  the  garden  ;  but  my  man  here  makes  nought  of  it, 
since  he's  going  to  have  his  wish." 


328  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  And  married  four  year  next  autumn,"  said  Mrs. 
Pierce. 

Ferryman  regarded  Ilet  respectfully. 

"  A  shy  bearer,  ma'am  ;  but  so's  some  of  the  bestest 
fruit  trees  in  the  kingdom.  Dodd  here,  as  understands 
an  apple  second  to  no  man,  will  tell  the  same.  Take 
your  Cornish  Gillyflower  —  it  wants  a  lot  of  manage- 
ment and  a  very  tender  hand  with  the  pruning-knife  — 
but  what  a  mighty  masterpiece  when  you  get  it !  'Tis 
fruit  for  a  king  ;  an'  I  hope  'twill  be  the  same  with 
you,  I'm  sure." 

"  If  'tis  another  as  good  and  peart  as  Henny  here, 
us  shall  do  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Pierce. 

"And  so  we  shall,"  answered  Dodd  kindly,  but 
hoping  otherwise. 

A  great  cheerfulness  and  gaiety  settled  upon  them. 
They  talked  long  and  hopefully,  and  the  visitors  fore- 
told smooth  things. 

Presently  Perryman  and  his  daughter  drove  off  in 
their  little  trap;  Ilet  remained  at  home;  and  Dodd, 
the  Barkells  and  Mrs.  Pierce,  with  little  Henny,  started 
for  Meldon  gorge.  The  old  woman  returned  to  her 
cottage  that  night  and  Wolferstan  carried  her  bundle 
while  she  had  her  grand-daughter  by  the  hand.  It  was 
arranged  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  that  the  child 
should  stay  at  Fishcombe  cottage  for  a  week,  so  that 
Wolferstan  and  his  wife  might  be  the  more  free  to  look 
about  for  ground.  He  attached  importance  to  Ilet's 
judgment,  and  was  loath  to  do  anything  without  her 
help. 

Now  Abner  walked  beside  Mrs.  Pierce  while  his  son 
and  Wolferstan  went  ahead. 

The  younger  men  fell  into  argument  according  to 
their  custom,  and  Dodd  taxed  the  other. 

"What  can  life  be  to  you  without  faith?  A  pretty 
deadly  thing,  surely.     I  couldn't  rise  from  my  bed  and 


GOOD    AND    BAD  329 

tackle  the  day's  work  without  it.  No  man's  a  right  to 
stand  up  on  his  feet  till  he've  begun  the  day  on  his 
knees  —  that's  what  my  old  father  used  to  say.  And 
a  very  proper  rule  too." 

"I've  my  share  of  faith,  for  all  your  talk,"  said 
Dicky;  "and  hearing  that  you  are  going  to  have  a 
child  may  make  you  tenderer  to  what  I  do  believe  in. 
I  believe  in  the  unborn  —  always  have.  I'hat's  where 
I  put  my  trust.  'Tis  one  of  the  blots  on  life  that  we 
don't  think  more  of  what  we  owe  them.  You  Chris- 
tians with  your  maxims  —  why  don't  you  do  to  the 
next  generation  as  you  would  have  them  do  to  you  ? 
Ban't  they  our  neighbours  too  ?  " 

"  And  don't  we  think  for  them  ?  " 

"  Devil  a  bit !  What  did  I  hear  to  Okehampton 
Station  yesterday  from  the  man  himself?  I  mean  that 
chap,  Luke  Masters,  the  porter.  His  wife  be  in  the 
lunatic  asylum  again  after  bearing  him  another  child. 
Presently  she'll  be  well  and  come  out  and  breed  once 
more.  The  law  allows  it !  That's  how  much  we 
think  of  the  unborn.  And  a  chap  with  sick  lungs  may 
marry  a  female  with  a  weak  head  every  day  of  the 
week  if  they  like,  and  the  parsons  will  tell  'em  to 
increase  and  multiply.  And  the  law  allows  it.  Think 
of  the  wicked,  careless,  cruel  ignorance  of  that.  All 
this  we  suffer  smiling,  and  then,  if  a  farmer  sets  a  trap 
to  prevent  field  vermin  eating  him  out  of  house  and 
home,  we  scream  about  it.  We  meet  and  babble  and 
insult  our  betters,  when  wise  men  put  a  beast  to  pain 
for  the  sake  of  adding  to  human  knowledge  ;  but  every 
year  we  let  thousands  of  human  creatures  be  bred  into 
a  lifetime  of  sure  agony  and  utter  failure  without  a 
sigh." 

"  The  sins  of  the  fathers  are  visited  on  the  children," 
said  Wolferstan. 

"I  know  it,"   answered    the   other.     "And    that's 


330  THE   PORTREEVE 

what  human  reason  must  alter  by  stopping  the  sins.  It 
may  be  your  precious  God's  plan  to  torture  the  innocent 
from  the  womb,  and  handicap  his  little  ones  with 
rickety  bones  and  poisoned  blood,  because  their  fathers 
did  evil ;  but  we  have  grown  saner  and  wiser  — 
almost  as  sane  and  wise  as  the  savages,  who  destroy 
their  maimed  and  halt,  and  help  Nature  to  hide  her 
failures.  She's  far  more  merciful  than  man,  for  all  the 
parrot  cry  against  her  cruelty." 

"  It's  easy  to  talk,"  said  Dodd  ;  "  but  how  are  you 
going  to  interfere  with  the  liberty  of  the  subject  and 
tell  people  that  they  shall  not  marry  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  do  any  such  thing,"  answered  the 
signalman.  "  Let  them  marry  if  they  want  to. 
That's  their  affair ;  but  children  is  the  race's  affair,  and 
it  should  be  very  clearly  understood  that  no  male  or 
female  has  liberty  to  breed  trash.  'Tis  bad  husbandry 
to  breed  from  faulty  cattle  ;  'tis  bad  humanity  to 
breed  from  faulty  humans.  Surely  any  sane  soul  can 
see  that  ?  And  yet  every  day  of  the  week  rotten  men 
and  women  are  coupled  and  the  law's  too  weak  to  stop 
it.  Why  don't  we  take  as  much  trouble  to  make  the 
next  generation  as  we  do  any  other  crockery  ware  ? 
Why  don't  we  see  that  to  bring  life  into  the  world 
is  as  serious  as  to  put  it  out  ?  For  that  matter,  the 
parents  that  get  a  quiver  full  of  weak,  useless  chil- 
dren are  worse  than  murderers ;  and  I'd  punish 
them  worse.  Penal  servitude  should  they  get  for  the 
deed  —  both  of  'em  !  Let  them  that  come  after  to 
fight  the  hard  battle  start  clean,  whole,  healthy  —  or 
not  at  all.  Look  round  you,  Wolferstan,  and  read 
some  of  the  figures  you'll  find  in  the  papers.  Think 
a  bit  and  put  two  and  two  together,  same  as  I  do. 
We  muzzle  dogs  for  a  few  years  and  hydrophobia's 
a  thing  of  the  past.  If  we  muzzled  bad  breeders  for 
a    generation    or    two  —  what    then  ?      Why,    instead 


GOOD   AND    BAD 


33» 


of  spending  millions  —  millions,  mind  you  —  on  our 
insane  paupers,  we  should  find  lunacy  going  down 
instead  of  going  up.  Them  to  come  will  blush  that 
half  the  world  was  mad  in  the  twentieth  century,  and 
the  other  half  wasn't  ashamed  of  it." 

"  You  leave  religion  out  of  your  calculations  as 
usual. 

"  Not  I.  What  I'm  saying  be  a  sight  more  reli- 
gious than  your  imbecile  way.  The  religious  man  and 
the  humane  man  nowadays  is  the  man  of  science,  who 
seeks  truth  and  stands  up  for  sanity  before  all  else. 
I'm  religious  enough,  and  if  I  had  had  a  pinch  of  fire 
mixed  with  my  clay,  I  should  have  been  a  preacher 
and  worked  out  my  few  years  in  trying  to  help  the 
world  to  be  clean.  I'd  have  preached  sweet  air  and  sweet 
water  and  sweet  brains  ;  I'd  have  tried  to  teach  my  kind 
that  liberty  can't  be  in  a  world  bound  about  with  iron 
laws.  I'd  have  told  'em  of  a  greater  thing  than  liberty, 
and  that's  work.  But  there 'tis  —  I'm  too  idle.  If  you 
could  give  me  a  spark  of  your  zeal,  I  might  light  a 
little  fire  with  it ;  but  I've  got  no  fire  of  my  own.  I'm 
cold  —  bloodless  —  useless  —  built  for  a  looker  on.  I 
work  train  signals.      But  I  see  others." 

Behind  them  came  Mrs.  Pierce,  Mr.  Barkell  and 
the  child.  Dodd  and  Dicky  had  quickened  their  pace 
and  the  rest  were  far  in  the  rear. 

"  'Tis  an  eternal  mystery  how  the  Book  do  throw 
light  on  everything,"  said  old  Henny.  "Just  to-day, 
after  the  bad  news  came,  what  should  I  be  reading 
with  my  little  tibby-lamb  here  but  Proverbs  ?  A 
chapter  a  Sunday  us  get  through  ;  and  to-day  'twas 
the  twenty-third  ;  and  what  did  I  find  there  ?  '  Re- 
move not  the  old  landmark  and  enter  not  into  the  fields 
of  the  fatherless '  !  Somebody  did  ought  to  send  that 
verse  to  the  man —  Mr.  Slanning,  I  mean." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't  shake  him.       Us  must  larn 


332  THE    PORTREEVE 

the  young  youths  to  shoot  straight,  for  our  lives  de- 
pend upon  it  with  all  the  nations  raging  against  us  — 
according  to  the  *  Western  Morning  News.' " 

"  And  my  brave  maiden  here  larned  her  bit,  as  she 
do  every  Sunday,  so  that  her  shall  have  a  good  store 
of  Bible  wisdom  saved  against  her  grows  up  and  comes 
to  want  it,"  continued  the  old  woman. 

"  Ah  !  an'  what  have  she  got  to-day  then  ?  " 

"  Tell  your  text,  dearie,"  said  the  grandmother  ;  and 
little  Henny  instantly  stood  still,  put  her  hands  behind 
her  and  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  immense  sky. 

"'  Buy  the  truth,  and  sell  it  not,'"  she  piped. 

"  Good  —  very  good,"  declared  Mr.  Barkell. 
"  Here's  a  penny  for  'e,  my  darlin'.  I  ordained  to 
put  it  in  the  dish  to  church  an'  forgot.  There's 
nought  in  nature  I  like  better  than  a  big  text  in  a  li'l 
mouth." 


CHAPTER    VII 

A    SALE    OF    STOCK 

WITH  the  actual  business  of  leaving  his  old 
ground,  Wolferstan  began  to  see  the  gravity 
of  the  circumstance.  As  the  days  went  by  and 
fresh  complications  arose,  he  perceived  how  far-reach- 
ing was  this  stroke.  Ilet  alone  had  sympathy  with 
him.  The  rest  of  his  little  world  —  not  concerned  to 
hear  that  this  eminently  successful  man  had  received 
a  setback  —  displayed  their  feeling  on  the  subject  in 
applause  for  Orlando  Slanning.  His  action  tended 
indirectly  to  better  Okehampton,  for  the  town  would 
henceforth  possess  the  best  rifle  range  within  a  wide 
radius.  It  became  known  also  that  many  important 
future  competitions  might  be  set  for  decision  there. 

Wolferstan  concealed  his  chagrin  as  well  as  he  could, 
and  betrayed  little  bitterness  save  in  the  company  of 
his  wife. 

Together  they  set  to  work  and  visited  such  ground 
as  they  could  hear  about,  but  the  quest  proved  ineffec- 
tive, and  as  day  by  day  Dodd  failed  to  find  the  ideal 
land  within  possible  distance  of  his  home,  he  became 
strengthened  in  a  secret  resolve.  Returning  with  Ilet 
from  the  deep  meadows  by  Oke  under  Halstock,  he 
broached  the  subject. 

"  It's  more  and  more  in  me  to  drop  this  line  al- 
together and  try  beasts.  There's  a  lot  to  be  said  for 
'em.  Here  I  am,  a  Moorman  with  Venville  rights, 
and  all  those  beautiful  lairs  under  Mil  Tor  as  open  to 

333 


334 


THE    PORTREEVE 


me  as  anybody  ;  yet  I  only  keep  a  few  beggarly  sheep. 
My  own  impression  is,  Ilet,  that  there's  a  Providence 
in  this  business,  and  I'm  not  meant  to  have  ground 
no  more.  At  any  rate  not  at  present.  Think  how 
'twould  be  if  I  could  speak  of  my  cattle  up  over,  like 
many  another  farmer.  And  there's  this  to  be  said, 
mind  :  'twould  free  my  time  something  tremendous. 
With  a  garden,  one  has  got  to  be  in  it  all  day  long, 
and,  as  I've  stooped  over  the  dirty  work,  I've  often 
asked  myself  whether  I  ought  not  to  be  at  something 
higher.  And  no  land  turns  up.  So  I  shan't  look  any 
more.  I  shall  go  into  farming  a  bit  larger.  You  know 
how  the  pigs  paid.  Well,  I  mean  to  have  twice  as 
many  and  try  a  good  strain  of  Indian  game,  instead  of 
all  this  mixed  poultry  we  keep  ;  and " 

"  Where's  the  money  coming  from,  Dodd  ?  " 

"  To  be  plain,  I  must  borrow  a  bit." 

"  I  don't  like  that." 

"More  do  I  like  it  —  yet  there's  times  when  every 
man  who  looks  far  ahead  may  be  called  upon  to  raise 
a  few  hundred." 

"'Tis  such  hand  to  mouth  with  us.  I  don't  see 
what  there  is  to  borrow  it  on." 

He  frowned. 

"  You  oughtn't  to  say  things  like  that.  You  know 
what  I've  got  in  the  bank." 

"  Then  why  not  use  a  bit  of  that  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  false  wisdom  to  touch  capital  just 
now.  My  money's  my  security.  If  I  could  make 
money  for  Alexander  Horn,  as  I  did  do  —  why  not 
for  myself?  I  understand  things^  as  well  as  him, 
and  'tis  bigger  work,  when  all's  said,  than  market 
gardening." 

"  Do  what's  best  in  your  eyes,  Dodd.  You  know 
what  you  plan  I'll  help  to  carry  out  to  the  last  step." 

1  Things  —  sheep  and  cattle. 


A   SALE    OF   STOCK  335 

"  So  I  do.  Then  we'll  drop  this  land-hunting  and 
look  up  some  tidy  red  cattle  come  autumn.  'Twill 
suit  me  a  lot  better,  and  I'm  very  glad  you  feel  as  you 
do  about  it.  'Twill  take  me  a  deal  more  upon  the 
Moor,  and  that  will   be  good  for  my  health." 

They  talked  themselves  into  a  hopeful  vein,  and  for 
a  week  were  cheerful  and  busy  with  the  new  plans. 
But  difficulties  stood  in  the  way.  The  nursery  proved 
a  very  serious  loss.  Wolferstan  held  sales  there  from 
time  to  time,  and  each  brought  worse  prices  than  the 
last. 

His  new  seedling  onion,  on  which  he  had  counted 
to  make  twenty  pounds,  fetched  no  more  than  ten. 
From  a  sanguine  mood  he  turned  to  a  sour  one,  and 
exhibited  impatience  and  even  petulance.  His  wife 
stared  aghast  at  this  spectacle  and  tried  in  vain  to  rally 
him.  For  three  days  he  remained  under  a  cloud  and 
once  or  twice  took  long  rides  upon  Dartmoor  alone. 
Then  it  passed  :  he  expressed  supreme  contrition  and 
prayed  God  for  forgiveness.  He  went  to  church  and 
recovered  his  spirits  and  temper. 

Now  arose  the  matter  of  buying  stock  and  raising 
money  necessary  to  the  purpose.  Wolferstan  was  grati- 
fied to  find  the  latter  process  easy.  He  had  a  few 
hundred  pounds  saved,  and  easily  raised  as  much  again 
at  a  reasonable  rate.  A  sale  in  Cornwall  attracted  him, 
and  on  the  appointed  day  he  donned  his  market 
clothes,  put  his  cheque  book  in  his  pocket,  bade  Ilet 
wish  him  good  luck,  and  started  to  Marhamchurch  by 
Bude.  At  Ashbury,  Slanning  entered  the  railway  car- 
riage. Orlando  was  late  and  he  had  just  time  to 
tumble  into  Dodd's  smoking  compartment  as  the  train 
gathered  speed. 

His  concern  and  discomfort  were  evident,  but  he 
quickly  controlled  them,  brought  a  cigar  case  from  his 
pocket  and  began   to   smoke.     While   he   read  ^  The 


336  THE    PORTREEVE 

Sportsman,'  Wolferstan  had  leisure  to  note  him.     A 
sudden  impulse  to  speak  overtook  the  elder  man. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  but  I  should  like  to  be 
among  those  to  congratulate  you  on  your  public  spirit. 
You  did  Okehampton  and  the  Rifle  Association  a  real 
good  turn  by  buying  that  ground,  and  I'm  glad  to  see 
by  the  papers  that  you've  been  thanked  as  you  ought 
to  be.  You'll  know  I  speak  without  prejudice,  for  the 
business  made  a  good  bit  of  trouble  for  me.  But  'tis 
the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest  number  we've  always 
got  to  think  about." 

Slanning  strove  for  a  moment  not  to  answer,  but  he 
lacked  the  moral  strength  of  purpose  necessary  to  cut  a 
man  at  such  close  quarters.  He  hesitated  a  moment, 
then  replied. 

"Thank  you  —  yes.  It's  made  a  bit  of  a  stir,  I 
believe.  But  I  felt  called  to  do  it,  with  my  strong 
views  on  army  questions.  Sorry  about  your  nursery 
garden  —  really.  But  I  dare  say  you'll  find  better 
ground  somewhere  about." 

"  I'm  not  going  on  with  that.  For  many  things 
I'm  not  sorry  to  leave  the  valley,  though  it  wasn't  the 
time  I  should  have  chosen.  But  I'm  going  in  for 
breeding." 

"  Ah  !  —  you  know  a  lot  about  it  ?  " 

"  Thanks  to  Mr.  Horn." 

"  Yes,  he's  the  greatest  authority  in  these  parts. 
Why,  I'm  on  a  commission  for  him  to  Marhamchurch 
this  minute  !  A  lot  of  young  bullocks  and  heifers  for 
sale  there.  He  saw  them  last  week,  and  is  rather 
sweet  on  them.  'Tis  a  quiet  sale,  and  he  hopes  to  get 
a  bargain." 

"That's  funny,"  said  Dodd.  "I'm  bound  there 
myself  on   the  same  errand." 

"  The  deuce  you  are.  Well,  now  you  know  he 
wants  'em ?  " 


A    SALE    OF    STOCK  337 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Wolferstan  answered 
slowly. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Horn  lost  confidence  in  me,  and  it 
was  one  of  the  greatest  regrets  of  my  Hfe  when  he  did 
so.  We  needn't  go  into  that.  I  always  felt,  and 
always  shall  feel   deep   respect  for  him." 

"  I  should  think  so.      Who  doesn't?" 

"  A  sterling,  honourable  man.  I  wouldn't  do  any- 
thing to  annoy  him.      If  he  wants  the  things " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  the  other  rather 
insolently,  "  don't  make  a  virtue  of  necessity.  If  he 
wants  the  things,  you  may  take  it  from  me  that  he'll 
have  them.      I  tell  you  I'm  going  to  bid  for  them." 

Wolferstan,  who  had  hoped  something  from  this 
meeting,  was  nettled  at  the  other's  attitude. 

"  With  his  money,  I  suppose  ?  He  didn't  give  you 
the  liberty  to  pay  any  price,  did  he  ?  It  happens  that 
these  beasts  may  be  worth  a  bit  more  to  me  just  now 
than  they  would  be  to  Farmer  Horn.     What  then  ?  " 

Orlando  chuckled  and  put  up  his  glass. 

"  Well,  a  thing  is  worth  what  it  will  fetch.  All  the 
same,  I  shall  buy  the  stock  for  my  father-in-law,  so  if 
that's  all  your  errand,  Wolferstan,  you  may  just  as  well 
get  out  at  the  next  station  and  go  home." 

"  I  won't  do  that.  Out  of  respect  to  him  I  would 
have  withdrawn,  but  since  you  speak  so  uncivil,  I  shall 
go  on.  He  would  not  praise  you  for  being  imperti- 
nent to  another  man." 

Orlando  grew  red.  To  have  his  manners  rebuked 
by  the  son  of  a  hedge-mender  offended  him. 

"  When  I  want  to  know  how  to  behave —  don't  talk 
to  me,  please.  You  seem  to  forget  your  company 
rather.  '  Impertinent,'  indeed  !  Didn't  you  call  me 
'  poor  Slanning  '  five  or  six  years  ago  ?  You  to  talk  ! 
I  don't  know  how  you  had  the  cheek  to  speak  to  me 
at  all.     You  ought  to  know  your  place  better." 


338  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  So  I  ought,"  said  the  other.     "  You're  right  there 

—  though  not  often  right,  I  reckon.  I  ought  to  know 
my  place  is  a  long  sight  higher  than  yours.  What's 
money  ?  What  is  it  to  have  yourself  plastered  with 
loud  clothes  and  to  buy  ground  that  you  may  stand  in 
it  and  blow  your  own  trumpet?  Why,  all  a  common, 
low-minded  man's  work.  You  bought  my  land  so  that 
people  should  shout  and  call  you  a  fine  fellow.  I  pity 
you  now,  as  I  always  have  done.  If  you  bought  the 
house  over  my  head  and  the  clothes  off  my  back  —  if 
1  was  in  the  workhouse  and  you  lord  of  the  manor,  I 
should  still  pity  you ;  because  you're  a  self-sufficient, 
boasting  fool.  But  don't  you  meddle  with  me,  because 
no  man  shall  do  that  and  not  come  off  second  best." 

"  You  think  so  ?  That's  what  'tis  to  be  a  modest 
man  —  eh  ?  I'm  a  boasting  fool  ;  you're  a  wise  Solo- 
mon. You  noisy  dog  —  to  talk  to  a  soldier  so  !  Men 
have  been  spitted  for  less  in  Germany.  Why,  good 
God!  —  you  —  a  road-mender's  son  or  some  such 
thing,  to  dare  !  " 

Another  man  entered  the  carriage  and  Wolferstan 
left  it. 

He  had  grown  cool  by  the  time  he  reached  Bude  and 
regretted  his  foolish  anger  very  sincerely.  He  mar- 
velled at  himself  that  an  insolent  stare  through  an  eye- 
glass and  the  silly  word  of  a  vain  man  should  have  had 
power  to  waken  such  a  tempest  of  anger. 

The  distance  to  Marhamchurch  was  not  great,  and 
presently,  as  they  went  thither  on  foot,  Orlando  and 
Dodd  were  elbow  to  elbow  again. 

Slanning  had  also  grown  calmer.  He  was  in  a  tri- 
umphant mood  and  already  longed  to  be  telling  his 
wife  of  his  brilliant  and  successful  encounter. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Wolferstan,  "  I'm  sorry  for 
what  happened  just  now  —  real  sorry,      t  was  the  fool 

—  not  you.      I  didn't  mean  a  word  of  it.     Just  a  bit 


A    SALE    OF   STOCK  339 

of  temper  for   which   I'm  ashamed.       I    hope   you'll 
pardon  me,  though   I   don't  deserve  it." 

"  Now  you're  talking  sense.  Let  it  go.  I've  got 
rather  a  sharp  tongue  when  I'm  roused.  Say  no  more. 
As  to  this  sale  —  well,  let  the  bidding  take  its  way." 

Then  a  man  of  Slanning's  acquaintance  rode  up,  and 
the  miller  paid  no  more  attention  to  Wolferstan. 

At  the  sale  Orlando  bid  over  Dodd  on  two  occasions 
—  a  fact  that  would  not  have  troubled  Wolferstan  but 
for  the  other's  noisy  and  offensive  manner.  A  few 
men  round  the  auctioneer  lausfhed  as  Mr.  Horn's  son- 
in-law  cried  guineas  to  Wolferstan's  pounds,  and  Dodd 
began  to  perceive  that  the  incidents  in  the  railway 
carriage  had  been  retailed  before  the  sale  began.  His 
heart  grew  hot  again  and,  when  the  lot  upon  which  he 
was  specially  bent  came  under  the  hammer  once  more, 
he  had  lost  a  little  of  his  self-control.  A  good  many 
besides  Slanning  and  himself  were  interested  now,  and 
bidding  waxed  pretty  brisk  for  some  time.  But  man 
after  man  fell  out  until  only  two  were  left.  Slanning 
and  Wolferstan  pushed  up  the  price  against  each  other  ; 
the  owner  chuckled ;  the  auctioneer  became  interested. 
The  value  of  the  lot  was  now  exceeded,  but  still  they 
bid.  A  buzz  of  voices  sounded  round  them,  and  both 
were  warm  ;  yet,  for  once,  Slanning  was  the  cooler 
man. 

Suddenly,  to  Wolferstan's  last  rise,  no  answer  came 
and  the  hammer  fell.  Laughter  rather  than  applause 
greeted  the  incident,  and  a  moment  later  Slanning's 
voice  was  lifted  loudly.  He  felt  very  considerable 
relief. 

"  That's  pretty  near  a  hundred  pounds  more  than 
they  are  worth  !  And  the  man  that's  bought  'em 
thinks  he  knows  a  bit  !  Ha,  ha  !  And  what  com- 
mission am  I  going  to  have,  Mr.  Heard,  for  pushing 
your  calves  up  like  that  ?  " 


340  THE    PORTREEVE 

Wolferstan  made  necessary  arrangements  and  with- 
drew. His  performance  occasioned  wide  comment. 
That  a  man  who  understood  cattle  should  have  done 
this  thing,  looked  mysterious.  Then  it  was  bruited 
that  Wolferstan  did  not  want  the  stock,  but  had  pur- 
chased out  of  animosity  to  Mr.  Horn.  Rumours 
spread ;  lies  were  told  and  not  contradicted.  The 
general  impression  grew  that  for  some  secret  spite  of 
his  old  master,  the  late  Portreeve  of  Bridgetstowe  had 
bid  against  him.  A  malignant  interpretation  was  put 
upon  his  folly  ;  but  that  it  was  a  simple  case  of  lost 
temper  none  imagined. 

Wolferstan  returned,  miserable  and  ashamed,  to  his 
wife.  He  told  her  everything,  and  she  spoke  gener- 
ous words  of  comfort.  She  heartened  him  ;  and  be- 
fore nightfall  he  had  written  to  Alexander  Horn. 

In  this  last  matter  he  bettered  his  wife's  instruction, 
for  while  I  let  merely  advised  him  to  express  regret  and 
to  explain  that  a  foolish  anger  had  made  him  err,  Dodd 
wrote  much  more.  He  entered  into  full  particulars, 
described  Slanning's  conduct  and  the  anger  which  it 
awoke  in  himself,  and  ended  by  offering  to  let  Mr. 
Horn  have  the  cattle  at  the  price  of  Orlando's  final 
bid.  By  so  doing  he  stood  to  lose  ten  pounds ;  but 
he  told  himself  that  he  deserved  such  a  punishment 
for  his  own  lapse. 

The  stock  remained  with  Wolferstan,  however,  for 
he  received  no  answer  to  his  letter. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

BREAKING    THE    NEWS 

W'HEN  Orlando  went  home  he  told  his  story 
with  exaggeration.  The  dialogue  with  Wolf- 
erstan  he  wrongly  narrated,  as  all  dialogues 
are  wrongly  narrated  in  rehearsal,  but  the  substance 
was  true,  and  his  wife  felt  acute  interest.  As  for  Mr. 
Horn,  he  was  not  heard  to  utter  a  word  upon  the 
subject  when  these  incidents  came  to  his  ears. 

The  married  life  of  Primrose  needs  no  very  special 
details  of  description.  She  lived  as  she  had  lived  at 
home,  spent  much  of  her  time  in  the  saddle,  and  was 
openly  regretful  and  secretly  glad  that  she  had  no 
children.  Her  life  ran  in  the  old  grooves.  She 
hunted,  enjoyed  herself  after  her  kind,  and  made  a 
very  perfect  wife  for  Slanning.  Him  she  controlled 
with  ease,  humoured,  and,  by  humouring,  dominated 
in  all  things,  without  appearing  to  do  so. 

She  watched  Wolferstan  calmly  and  her  purposes 
with  regard  to  him  were  absolutely  unchanged.  She 
was  in  no  haste,  and  after  the  scene  at  the  Agricultural 
Show,  let  him  advance  for  years  without  moving  to 
hurt  him.  Then  the  rifle  ranges  and  the  talk  about 
them  gave  her  an  easy  opportunity,  and  she  took  it. 
She  had  not  intended  to  do  more  for  the  present ;  but 
Wolferstan's  circumstances  and  his  meeting  with  her 
husband  quickened  her  reptilian  patience.  That  he 
was  going  to  raise  cattle  and  abandon  market  gardening 
interested  her.     And  that  he  had  begun  by  paying  too 

341 


342  THE    PORTREEVE 

much  for  stock,  told  her  a  great  deal  more  than  it  told 
Orlando.  She  was  surprised  to  find  this,  her  first 
serious  blow,  had  struck  so  deep.  The  anger  of  Wolf- 
erstan  and  his  loss  of  temper,  already  argued  a  different 
Woiferstan  from  him  she  had  known  so  intimately. 
She  began  to  wonder  whether,  after  all,  it  was  the 
deprivation  of  his  land  that  had  changed  him,  or 
whether  he  was  indeed  deteriorating  under  the  strain 
of  life.  That  seemed  improbable  so  soon.  She  chose 
the  more  likely  solution.  She  knew  how  exceedingly 
insolent  Orlando  could  be  when  he  chose,  and  felt  very 
little  doubt,  even  allowing  for  false  statements  in  his 
recital,  that  he  had  angered  Dodd  past  bearing  in  the 
railway-carriage,  and  nettled  him  to  folly  at  the  sale. 
But  there  was  a  time  when  no  man  of  her  husband's 
calibre  would  have  had  the  power  to  anger  Woiferstan. 
Therefore  she  suspected  that  his  old  self-repression  was 
at  least  shaken,  and  she  asked  herself  again  if  life,  and 
perhaps  his  wife,  had  so  far  changed  him,  or  if  the 
stroke  of  losing  his  nursery  garden  had  done  the  harm. 
It  mattered  little  enough,  since  the  fact  remained ; 
and  yet  she  liked  not  to  think  he  was  going  down 
without  her  help.  Upon  this  point  subsequent  events 
enlightened  her.  Woiferstan  borrowed  money  and 
bought  more  cattle  with  it.  That  he  had  borrowed 
was  not  generally  known,  that  he  had  become  a  grazier 
all  men  learnt.  Thus  he  won  a  reputation  for  greater 
wealth  than  he  possessed,  and,  after  a  few  denials,  he 
ceased  to  contradict  reports  and  let  the  matter  go. 
He  found  that  in  most  quarters  to  be  credited  with 
money  is  worth  the  real  thing,  and  he  looked  forward 
confidently  to  paying  back  his  loan  at  the  appointed 
time.  He  bought  a  new  horse  and,  thanks  to  the  fact 
of  war,  made  a  considerable  sum  of  money  over  other 
transactions  involving  horses.  As  the  year  turned  and 
autumn    approached,    the    man's     prospects    became 


BREAKING   THE    NEWS  343 

brighter,  and  a  crowning  triumph  was  the  winning  of  a 
seat  on  the  Okehampton  Town  Council.  This  he  did 
as  a  Conservative,  defeating  the'  Progressive'  candidate 
who  stood  against  him,  by  a  narrow  majority. 

He  took  his  new  duties  in  a  very  serious  spirit  and 
spared  no  pains  to  perform  them.  He  worked  exceed- 
ingly hard,  yet  found  time  to  add  a  new  pleasure  to 
his  life  and  began  to  hunt  a  little  after  the  fashion  of 
many  Moorland  men.  The  small  holders  are  often 
sportsmen,  and  at  any  Dartmoor  meet  many  a  rough 
rider  on  a  rough  pony  swells  the  throng.  Their  horses 
make  up  in  cleverness  what  they  lack  of  speed,  and  the 
Moorman's  knowledge  of  the  ground  ensures  him 
good  share  of  sport.  But  Wolferstan  regarded  his  new 
amusement  partly  in  the  nature  of  an  advertisement, 
and  went  neatly  attired  on  a  good  horse.  His  taste  in 
the  matter  of  clothes  did  not  fail  him.  He  always 
looked  well  and  always  appeared  prosperous  and 
cheerful. 

Ilet  favoured  the  sport,  for  it  heartened  Dodd  and 
he  invariably  returned  from  the  Moor  in  a  cheerful 
and  sanguine  mood.  His  cattle  came  on  well,  and 
already  he  looked  forward  to  the  autumn  sales.  But 
for  his  folly  at  Marhamchurch,  the  prospect  of  profit 
was  fair ;  and,  even  allowing  for  that  error,  he  had 
right  to  hope.  So  it  came  about  that  the  loss  of  the 
market  garden  appeared  after  all  but  a  blessing  in 
disguise. 

Ilet  also  prospered,  and  their  united  life  emerged 
from  the  cloud  brighter  and  hopefuller  by  contrast. 
Success  always  made  Wolferstan  prayerful ;  he  increased 
in  devoutness  now  and  spent  no  little  time  with  efforts 
to  help  others  on  the  way. 

The  institution  for  working  men  which  he  had  been 
instrumental  in  founding,  languished  largely  at  this 
season,  and,  after  a  long  argument  with    Ilet,  Dodd 


34+  THE    PORTREEVE 

spent  ten  pounds  upon  it  with  a  view  to  increasing  its 
attractions. 

Thus  stood  their  lives,  when  incident  overtook 
them. 

It  happened  on  a  day  in  autumn  that  Wolferstan 
went  cub-hunting  at  a  very  early  hour.  The  meet 
was  at  Halstock,  near  his  own  home,  and  he  found  a 
considerable  number  gathered  together  under  Halstock 
Wood,  including  several  strangers  from  Okehampton 
on  hired  horses.  Two  ladies  were  also  of  the  com- 
pany:   Primrose  Slanning  and  the  wife  of  the  Master. 

Wolferstan  had  seen  the  Slannings  at  several  meets 
before  this  occasion,  but  no  notice  was  taken  on  either 
side. 

To-day  he  arrived  a  little  late  and  hounds  were  just 
going  to  cover.  They  found  quickly  and  soon  their 
fox  took  them  into  the  fresh  glory  of  sunrise  on  the 
Moor.  Wolferstan  was  well  placed  and  his  horse  was 
fresh.  Where  the  little  Blackavon  falls  into  Oke  the 
fox  turned  right-handed,  passed  behind  Harter  Farm, 
then,  still  keeping  to  the  right,  followed  Blackavon's 
windings  under  Curters  Glitters,  and  so  held  straight 
on,  over  the  heavy  ground  to  the  east  of  Dinger  Tor. 
The  pace  was  very  fast,  and  presently  the  huntsman, 
two  hundred  yards  behind  hounds,  and  half  a  dozen 
riders,  a  hundred  yards  or  more  behind  him,  were 
separated  from  the  rest  of  the  straggling  field  by  a 
quarter  of  a  mile.  Wolferstan,  a  slightly  built  young 
man  on  a  big  bay,  another  stranger,  the  Slannings,  the 
Master  and  a  friend  of  the  latter,  made  up  the  van. 
Then  hounds  turned  left-handed,  crossed  a  wall  and 
got  into  the  heavy  morasses  under  Okement  Hill. 
No  horses  could  live  with  them  here  ;  the  field  gained 
a  little  ground  on  the  leaders  ;  but  the  hunt  disap- 
peared. 

Then    it    was    that    Primrose    got    into    difficulties 


BREAKING   THE    NEWS  345 

in  some  very  boggy  ground,  and  her  husband  came  to 
her  aid.  Wolferstan  and  others  kept  to  the  right, 
where  he  knew  there  was  firm  going,  and  the  hunts- 
man, whose  knowledge  of  the  Moor  was  not  equal  to 
Dodd's,  rode  beside  him.  They  kept  on  over  Oke- 
ment  Hill  and  then  hounds  were  sighted  racing  towards 
Taw  Head. 

Not  until  half  an  hour  later  did  those  behind  see  a 
rider  returning  as  fast  as  he  could  gallop.  He  drew 
up  near  Slanning  and  shouted  for  a  doctor ;  but  unfor- 
tunately none  was  out,  and  he  galloped  on.  The  man 
had  been  well  up  from  the  first,  and  was  mounted  on 
an  Okehampton  mare  belonging  to  a  livery-stable 
keeper  of  that  town.  But  though  his  horse  was  fa- 
miliar to  those  round  him,  his  rider  no  one  knew. 

"  What's  wrong  ?  "  shouted  Slanning  ;  and  the 
stranger  cried  out,  "  Bad  fall  jumping.  One  brought 
down  the  other  —  all  up,  I'm  afraid  —  my  brother  — 

a    chap    called    Wolferstan "      The    rest    of  his 

speech  was  lost  as  he  retreated ;  but  the  name  of 
Wolferstan   had  been  clearly  heard. 

A  few  rode  on  swiftly  and  one  kindly  man,  who 
believed  that  a  doctor  was  stopping  at  Belstone,  turned 
his  horse  away  and  started  for  that  village,  knowing  it 
to  be  closer  than  Okehampton. 

The  field  scattered  and  some  had  already  fallen  out. 
Slanning  rode  on,  and  a  few  moments  later  Primrose 
found  herself  alone.  This  she  desired,  for  now  her 
thoughts  woke  into  very  acute  activity.  What  had 
happened  she  did  not  know.  The  frantic  man  on  the 
horse  showed  by  his  manner  that  he  was  in  great 
tribulation.  He  had  mentioned  his  brother  and  a  bad, 
perhaps  fatal,  accident.  He  had  also  named  Wolfer- 
stan. 

An  instinct  at  this  juncture  made  the  woman  turn 
sharply  from  the  line  of  riders,  take  her  horse  to  the 


346  THE    PORTREEVE 

right  and  gallop  away  alone  under  Dinger  Tor  into 
the  valley  of  the  West  Oke.  She  did  not  wish  to  hear 
more  particulars  of  the  accident.  She  had  learned 
enough  and  preferred  to  remain  in  doubt  of  details. 
Her  reasons  were  evil  and  she  reflected  how  best  to 
profit  by  this  mishap.  If  Wolferstan  was  dead,  that 
ended  it,  and  she  had  not  after  all  been  '  in  at  the 
death,'  as  once  she  had  sworn  to  be.  Then  the  hunt 
was  over  and  the  secret  sauce  to  life  had  run  dry. 
But  she  hoped  otherwise.  The  man  had  named  his 
brother  with  a  faltering  voice.  How  to  win  something 
for  herself  out  of  this  accident  was  the  problem,  and 
her  mind  worked  swiftly  upon  it.  By  the  time  that 
she  had  reached  Black  Tor  Copse,  a  plan  was  matured. 
She  passed  on  horseback  beside  the  stone  where  Wolf- 
erstan sat  when  he  prayed  Ilet  to  be  his  wife.  The 
atmosphere  of  this  spot  seemed  to  quicken  thought  in 
the  huntress.  As  she  passed  into  the  valley  and  rode 
by  the  cottage  of  Henny  Pierce,  her  line  of  action 
became  clear.  She  proceeded  still  by  the  river,  then 
climbed  again  up  the  steep  ways  of  the  Redavon  and 
kept  her  eyes  open  for  the  thing  she  needed. 

There  was  no  time  to  waste  now,  for  she  had  made 
a  wide  detour  from  the  scene  of  the  accident,  and  others, 
returning  more  directly,  might  carry  the  truth  with 
them. 

The  desired  object  met  her  gaze  and  a  man  con- 
fronted her.  She  frowned,  for  he  was  old  and  a  slow 
mover.  But  if  he  started  immediately,  under  Black 
Down  and  through  the  artillery  camp,  he  might  reach 
the  house  of  Dodd  Wolferstan  within  an  hour.  The 
time  was  now  after  nine  o'clock  and  a  splendid  autumn 
morn  made  glad  the  fading  world. 

It  was  old  Abner  Barkell  whom  Primrose  happened 
to  meet,  and  her  words  disclosed  her  purpose.  She 
did  not  know  him  and  spoke  swiftly. 


BREAKING    THE    NEWS  347 

"There's  been  an  accident  with  hounds,  my  good 
man.  It  would  be  well  if  some  news  of  it  was  taken 
quickly.  Can  you  earn  a  half-crown  ?  Do  you  know 
the  house  where  Mr.  Wolferstan  lives  near  the  artillery 
camp  ?  " 

"  Dodd  Wolferstan  ?  Yes,  ma'am.  But  for  God's 
sake  don't  say  nothing's  happened  to  him  .?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  the  worst.  The  details  I  don't  know, 
but  they  fear  it's  fatal.  It  would  be  a  good  thing  if 
just  a  hint  could  be  given  to  his  poor  wife  —  to  break 
It. 

"Oh,  my  God!  And  her  in  —  I  couldn't  —  I 
couldn't  do  it,  ma'am.  The  dreadfulness  of  the  ways 
of  Providence  !  Why,  her  first  was  laid  low  —  there's 
a  fatal  —  don't  ax  me  —  I " 

Abner  fairly  ran  away  down  the  hill.  One  hand 
held  a  stick  ;  he  wrung  the  other  as  he  stumbled  for- 
ward. She  cried  after  him,  but  he  neither  answered 
nor  looked  back. 

Time  sped  and  the  woman  stood  quite  still  for  five 
minutes.  Then  she  rode  forward  to  do  her  work 
herself. 

She  was  justified  in  assuming  that  Wolferstan  was 
dead,  or  at  any  rate  badly  injured.  Humanity  indi- 
cated that  to  break  the  news  to  his  wife  would  be  a 
reasonable  and  proper  thing.  If  he  were  indeed  dead, 
her  action  must  be  considered  worthy  of  a  woman  ;  if  not 
—  then  the  mistake  could  only  be  pardoned  ;  but  much 
might  come  of  the  mistake. 

She  spurred  her  horse,  rounded  Black  Down  and 
galloped  through  the  valley  beneath  it.  Presently  she 
came  out  under  the  artillery  camp,  passed  the  Moor 
gate  and  rode  towards  the  house  of  Wolferstan,  where 
it  stood  high  on  the  hill  overlooking  Okehampton. 
As  she  left  the  Moor,  far  on  her  right  she  saw  the 
flash  of  the  huntsman's  pink  and  the  twinkle  of  the 


348  THE    PORTREEVE 

hounds.  Scattered  figures  were  close  by,  some  on 
foot,  some  on  horseback.  In  their  midst  a  Httle  knot 
of  men  clustered  and  she  saw  that  they  carried  a  hurdle. 
She  was  in  plenty  of  time. 

A  small  iron  wicket  opened  from  Wolferstan's  house 
on  to  the  high  road.  Here  Primrose  dismounted,  and 
made  fast  her  horse ;  then  gathered  up  her  habit,  and 
went  round  to  the  front  door  of  the  dwelling,  which 
opened  northward  under  a  little  verandah.  She  knocked 
loudly  and  Ilet  herself  answered  the  summons. 

Primrose  was  familiar  with  the  other's  condition.  It 
had  entered  into  her  calculations,  and  did  not  come  as 
a  surprise.  As  she  looked  at  her,  she  remembered, 
as  a  strange  coincidence,  that  on  the  last  occasion  of 
their  meeting,  now  five  years  ago,  Ilet  was  also  with 
child. 

Wolferstan's  wife  flushed  and  took  a  step  backward 
at  this  sudden  and  most  unexpected  apparition.  Then 
she  came  forward  with  questioning  face. 

She  was  just  preparing  her  husband's  breakfast,  for 
he  had  told  her  that  he  should  be  home  soon  after  nine. 

"Forgive  me  for  troubling  you  —  I've  ridden  fast 
and  I'm  somewhat  unstrung.  An  accident  —  I  felt  it 
was  only  human    to   try  and  come   to  you  if  I   could, 

before I  asked  an  old  man,  but  his  courage  failed 

him  —  therefore  I  came  myself.  When  I  heard,  I  rode 
away  —  then  I  decided  to  let  you  know.  You  must 
be  brave  about  it ;  but  you  must  be  prepared " 

Still  Ilet  listened  without  speaking. 

"  An  accident  out  on  the  Moor.  I  haven't  heard 
particulars,  but  the  trouble  is  very  serious  —  terribly 
so  —  and  Mr.  Wolferstan  —  they  are  bringing  him 
over  the   Moor  now.      I   felt  if  a  woman's — I'm  so 


very,  very  sorry 

Abel  Pierce's  child  ran   out,  and  seeing  a  stranger, 
hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  gown. 


BREAKING   THE    NEWS  349 

Ilet  continued  silent  and  Primrose  prepared  to 
depart. 

"  It  may  not  be  the  worst,"  she  said,  "  but  if  it  had 
happened  to  me,  I  should  have  been  thankful  to  be 
prepared  —  and  so  I  have  done  for  another  woman 
what  I  should  have  thanked  another  woman  for  doing 
to  me." 

Still  the  other  said  nothing.  Then  Primrose  de- 
parted. She  had  not  heard  I  let's  voice;  but  she  had 
seen  the  tremendous  force  of  the  blow  fall  fair  and 
square.  For  a  moment  the  younger  wife  was  dazed. 
Then  she  heard  Mrs.  Slanning  ride  off  and  turned 
to  go. 

There  was  no  time  to  think,  and  she  had  no  desire 
to  think.  All  that  went  to  the  death  of  her  first  hus- 
band poured  through  her  mind.  She  lived  the  mo- 
ments again.  She  ran  up  to  their  bed  —  dragged  the 
clothes  from  it,  and  made  a  soft  couch  on  the  parlour 
sofa;  she  cleared  the  parlour  table  of  little  trifles  and 
opened  the  window  to  let  in  air.  She  went  for  fresh 
water  and  put  out  a  glass  and  a  bottle  of  spirits.  She 
moved  with  immense  strength  and  fortitude,  and  waited 
with  nerves  strung  up  and  perfect  self-control  for  the 
blow  to  fall.  Presently  she  heard  voices  and  the  thud 
of  horses'  hoofs  and  the  shouting  of  directions. 

A  crowd  was  coming  down  the  hill  and  they  carried 
a  litter. 

Almost  her  last  conscious  act  was  to  open  the  little 
iron  gate  for  them  and  set  a  stone  against  it  to  keep  it 
open. 

Then  Wolferstan,  safe  and  sound,  hurried  up  to  her. 

"  You  !  "  she  said. 

"All  right,  thank  God;  but " 

To  his  astonishment  his  wife  lifted  her  arms  wildly 
to  him,  then,  before  he  could  catch  her,  she  rolled  over 
in  a  heap  at  his  feet. 


350  THE    PORTREEVE 

Five  minutes  later  she  lay  on  the  bed  that  she  had 
made  ready  for  her  husband,  and  a  doctor,  who  was 
walking  beside  the  hurdle,  left  it,  for  a  case  more 
immediately  urgent. 

Wolferstan  and  a  young  man  on  a  hired  horse  had 
collided  and  come  down  together  at  a  jump.  Dodd 
was  uninjured ;  the  visitor  had  broken  his  leg.  He 
was  badly  hurt,  but  in  no  peril  of  life. 


CHAPTER   IX 

ORLANDO    IS    DISLOYAL 

IT  went  hardly  with  Ilet  and  what  Dodd's  destruction 
might  not  have  done,  his  safety  effectually  accom- 
plished. Her  labour  was  in  vain,  and  for  some  days 
she  suffered  danger  of  death. 

The  subsequent  illness  was  very  long  and  very  trying. 

The  strain  told  heavily  upon  Dodd  Wolferstan. 
The  expense  of  Ilet's  illness  weighed  nothing  with  him, 
and  he  spent  more  money  than  was  actually  necessary, 
in  food  which  she  could  not  eat,  and  in  books  which  she 
cared  not  to  read  ;  but  the  lasting  evil  was  of  the  mind, 
and  upon  the  man's  temper  there  fell  impressions  that 
no  time  nor  change,  nor  return  of  happiness  might 
eradicate.  From  the  first  he  read  a  definite  meaning 
into  the  action  of  Primrose.  He  put  an  evil  and  a 
true  interpretation  upon  her  deed,  and  although  Ilet 
herself  protested,  and  his  little  circle  cried  out  against 
such  a  dark  opinion,  steadfastly  he  held  that  the  wife 
of  Orlando  Slanning  had  taken  her  message  in  malice 
with  dehberate  intention  to  work  mischief.  He  had 
asked  the  brother  of  the  injured  man  the  nature  of  the 
words  he  uttered,  and  he  had  interrogated  others  who 
also  heard  them.  It  seemed  clear  to  him  that,  though 
his  name  had  been  mentioned,  there  was  nothing  to 
justify  the  subsequent  assumption  of  Primrose.  Others, 
who  had  also  heard,  confessed  that  they  had  not  reached 
the  same  conclusion,  but  none  denied  that  such  an 
impression  might  have  reasonably  entered  the  mind 
of  a  listener.     None  blamed  Mrs.  Slanning,  save  only 

351 


352  THE    PORTREEVE 

Dodd  and  Richard  Barkell.  The  latter  found  this 
event  fit  with  his  own  theory  and  prediction.  He  had 
foretold  that  the  woman  would  prove  a  lifelong  enemy  ; 
therefore,  naturally,  he  accepted  events  that  seemed  to 
support  his  opinion.  He  alone  tolerated  Dodd's  dark 
suspicions ;  but  his  attitude  proved  of  little  comfort  to 
the  sufferer. 

A  month  after  Ilet's  illness  she  received  a  letter  from 
the  woman  who  was  responsible  for  it.  Primrose  wrote 
with  affectation  of  sorrow  for  her  error  and  the  unfortu- 
nate issue.  She  added  that  her  mistake  was  natural  under 
the  circumstances,  but  that  none  the  less  she  should 
always  greatly  regret  it  to  her  dving  day,  in  so  far  as 
the  robbed  mother  was  concerned.  The  father  she  did 
not  mention. 

Wolferstan  would  not  let  his  wife  answer  the  letter, 
but  took  it  to  Barkell  to  read.  The  signalman  had 
little  to  say  upon  it,  however. 

"  'Twas  only  part  of  the  game  that  she  should  do 
this,"  he  remarked.  "  What  luck  the  wicked  do  have, 
to  be  sure  !  Nought  could  have  fallen  patter  for  her 
than  this  business." 

"  She's  robbed  me  of  my  child  and  worse.  She 
might  have  robbed  me  of  my  wife  also.  If  that  had 
happened,  I'd  .  .  .  But  there  'tis.  Ilet  wanted  to 
answer  this  and  I  wouldn't  let  her.  'Tis  a  marvel  to 
me,  after  all  that's  fallen  out,  but  my  woman,  lying 
wrecked  there,  won't  even  now  see  the  truth.  Not  a 
shadow  of  blame  does  she  throw  on  t'other  —  says  it 
might  have  happened  to  her  herself.  And  that  though 
she  knows  all  the  past." 

"  Your  wife  is  built  so,"  answered  old  Barkell.  "  She 
thinks  a  thing  through  and  then  sticks  to  it  for  right 
or  wrong.  If  she's  made  up  her  mind  that  Mrs. 
Slanning  meant  good  and  not  evil,  not  cherubims  from 
the  sky  would  shake  her.     And  I  think  'tis  a  noble 


ORLANDO    IS    DISLOYAL  353 

and  gracious  thing  and  a  great  lesson  to  all  of  us.  But 
for  God's  mercy  and  my  own  wits  I  might  have  taken 
the  message  myself.  It  had  to  be:  'twas  planned  that 
your  little  one  wasn't  to  open  his  eyes  on  this  trouble- 
some world.  What  was  she  but  a  minister  and  a 
mouthpiece  ?  I  don't  know  that  you've  got  any  call 
to  read  bad  motives  myself.  'Tis  so  terrible  easy  to 
read  'em  into  human  affairs.  But  'tis  a  very  bad 
habit,  Dodd,  and  does  a  lot  of  harm  to  the  heart  that 
gets  in  the  way  of  it." 

"  I  know  that  well  enough.  D'you  think  I  didn't 
smart  when  I  catched  myself  doing  so  ?  But  Ilet  is 
blind,  and  if  I  was  blind  too,  we  should  both  fall  over 
the  precipice  together  presently.  Look  how  things  are. 
How  does  it  happen  that  in  every  bad  stroke  that's 
fallen  on  me  since  my  marriage,  you  can  find  that 
woman  ?  Answer  that.  Look  back  and  mark  how 
true  it  is.  Now,  with  my  eyes  open,  I  can  see  her 
hand  all  through." 

"  Forewarned  you  are.  Then  don't  give  her  no 
more  chances,"  said  Dicky. 

But  Wolferstan  turned  impatiently  from  him. 

"  Easy  to  talk  like  a  book  when  you're  safe  as  a 
book,  and  dead  as  a  book,  and  beyond  reach  of  hurt. 
How  am  I  going  to  stop  her  ?     What  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  You  might  go  to  her." 

"  And  fall  on  my  knees,  perhaps,  and  beg  her  to  let 
me  off?  " 

"  Not  that.  Maybe  she  doesn't  know  you've  found 
her  out." 

"  And  wouldn't  it  add  just  that  pinch  of  salt  to  her 
life  if  she  knew  I  had?  I'll  not  let  her  think  —  and 
yet  —  of  course  she  knows  that  I  see  it.  I'm  not  a 
fool." 

"  She's  made  it  clear  enough,"  said  Dicky ;  "  but 
can't  two  play  at  the  game  ?  " 

2A 


354  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Don't  listen  to  him,  Dodd,"  implored  Abner 
Barkell.  "  Don't  heed  that  heathen  man.  This  is 
where  right  and  religion  come  on.  Listen  to  your 
wife  and  your  own  conscience.  Walk  uprightly  in 
this  ticklish  place.  Put  on  the  whole  armour  of  right- 
eousness, for  you  never  needed  it  more.  Let  your 
wife  answer  the  letter.  Ilet's  great  generous  faith  will 
shame  her,  even  if  she's  so  bad  as  you  think  her." 

"  Never !  They've  left  my  letters  unanswered. 
They've  thrown  my  gifts  back  in  my  face.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  self-respect.     You  forget  that." 

"  There  are  times  when  'tis  better  forgotten,"  an- 
swered the  old  man. 

"  What  a  mean-spirited  old  chap  you  are,  father  !  " 

"  Not  at  all,  Richard.  The  high  boss  is  uneasy 
riding  for  poor  folk.  These  here  people  have  the 
power  to  hurt,  and  if  they've  got  the  will  too,  as  Dodd 
believes,  then  self-respect  ban't  the  weapon  to  fight  'em 
with.  A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath.  If  they've 
got  a  grudge  against  Dodd  here,  better  far  he  should 
go  to  'em  in  Christian  patience  and  find  out  what's  the 
matter  and  clear  it  up,  and  start  fresh." 

"  If  I'm  not  stronger  than  a  wicked  woman  and  a 
brainless  fool,  it's  a  pity,"  said  Dodd. 

"  Granted  she  is  wicked,"  answered  Abner.  "  Mind, 
I'm  not  saying  she  is,  or  thinking  she  is  ;  but  I'll  allow 
for  the  minute  that  she  be.  Then  you've  got  two 
against  you  without  the  man,  namely,  her  and  the  Devil 
her  master.  Well,  with  the  Devil  against  us  we'm  lost 
unless  God's  our  side.  Nobody  knows  that  better 
than  you.  So  there  it  stands,  and  you've  got  to  call 
on  your  Maker  to  show  you  I'm  right.  Humble  pie 
don't  taste  nice,  but  it  never  gave  nobody  but  a  fool 
indigestion.  'Tis  very  nourishing  food  to  the  Chris- 
tian spirit.  You  let  I  let  answer  that  letter  as  she 
wants  to  answer  it,  and  see  what  happens." 


ORLANDO    IS    DISLOYAL  355 

"There  —  that's  good  advice,  I  do  think,"  added 
Dicky.  "  'Twill  be  a  lasting  surprise  to  the  woman, 
tor  I'll  bet  a  week's  wages  she  says  to  herself  you 
won't  let  Ilet  answer." 

"  You  wasn't  used  to  be  proud,"  continued  Abner  ; 
"  'twas  your  stronghold  of  character,  Dodd  —  the 
modesty  of  you.  Don't  go  an'  get  proud  just  at  the 
wrong  minute,  my  dear  man." 

Wolferstan  laughed  bitterly. 

"  By  God  !  not  much  to  be  proud  of,  I  grant  you. 
Wriggling  like  a  worm  on  a  hook.  To  be  under  her 
heel  helpless  and  stand  here  reduced  to  anger  and  bad 
words.      Did  you  hear  me  swear  then  ?  " 

"  'Tis  out  of  your  character,  no  doubt,  to  take  the 
Name  like  that  —  such  a  religious  man." 

Wolferstan  looked  at  Dicky,  but  his  friend  did  not 
speak. 

"  She  shan't  answer  the  letter,  anyway,"  he  said  ;  "  but 
I'm  not  sure  I  won't  go  and  see  the  woman  face  to  face." 

He  left  them  upon  this  determination,  yet  changed 
it  before  a  week  had  passed.  Then  the  matter  went 
out  of  his  mind,  for  much  else  occupied  it.  The  win- 
ter was  hard  and  long ;  the  expenses  of  keeping  his 
cattle,  during  the  season  when  they  could  not  be  on 
the  Moor,  proved  considerable.  Minor  anxieties  also 
busied  him.  Once,  before  dawn,  Ilet  grew  very  un- 
well and  he  hurried  for  the  medical  man.  Dr.  Hext 
arrived  and  quickly  found  that  his  patient  must  be 
taken  to  Exeter  and  undergo  operation. 

She  could  have  no  more  children. 

Wolferstan  took  this  cold  news  out  of  the  house 
with  him  and  stood  in  front  of  his  door  under  the  first 
light  of  a  January  day.  He  looked  at  the  winter 
world  outspread  ;  then  turned  his  face  to  the  sky  where 
morning,  like  an  army,  rolled  along  the  purple  horizons 
of  the  East  under  points  and  streamers  of  fire. 


356  THE   PORTREEVE 

Ilet  quite  filled  his  thoughts  and  this  new  fear  for 
her ;  but  he  had  not  buried  desire  for  children  in  the 
grave  of  his  still-born  infant.  He  was  for  a  time  too 
busy  to  think  of  the  cause  of  this  misfortune.  Then 
it  returned  to  him,  and  dull  rage  smouldered  up  in  his 
spirit,  as  now  it  often  did. 

Presently  the  noise  of  a  cart  fell  upon  his  musings, 
and  it  stopped  at  the  gate.  A  moment  later  the  driver 
hammered  at  the  back  door  and  he  heard  old  Henny's 
voice  within. 

"  Tell  that  man  to  be  quiet,  Dodd.  Ilet  be  getting 
off  to  sleep  now." 

He  went  out  and  found  a  carter  with  a  square  wooden 
case  addressed  to  him.  There  was  nothing  to  pay, 
and  the  man  departed,  leaving  Wolferstan  gazing  idly 
at  the  box.  He  could  not  tell  whence  it  came  and 
expected  no  such  thing.  The  direction  was  in  a  large, 
loose,  hopeful  hand  that  he  did  not  know. 

Dodd  got  a  hammer  and  chisel  and  opened  the  box. 
It  contained  twelve  bottles  of  port  wine  and  a  letter. 
For  a  moment  the  gift  warmed  him  and  he  felt  it 
a  blessed  thing  in  that  dark  hour  thus  to  be  reminded 
that  he  had  friends  who  thought  of  his  sorrow.  Then 
he  read  the  letter  and  the  heat  of  his  heart  turned  from 
love  to  wrath. 

"Slanning's,  T^Jan. 
"  Dear  Wolferstan, 

"  I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  about  your  trouble  with  your 
wife,  and  at  this  season  of  the  year,  though  old-fashioned, 
we  feel  a  bit  sorrier  for  people  down  in  their  luck  than  at 
other  times.  I  expect  feeding  up  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  is 
necessary,  and  I'm  sending  a  dozen  bottles  of  good  stuff — 
old  port  —  which  I'll  back  against  doctor's  trash  any  day. 
You  needn't  acknowledge  the  wine  —  in  fact,  you'd  better 
not.  I  was  damned  sorry  about  the  child,  for  I've  got  none 
either  and  know  what  it  is  to  want  'em.     Though  a  soldier 


ORLANDO    IS    DISLOYAL  357 

myself,  I'm  a  man  who  likes  to  be  friendly  with  people,  and 
so  I  hope  you'll  take  this  in  the  spirit  it  is  meant.  Don't 
answer  this.  You  can  speak  to  me  next  time  we  meet  alone, 
if  you  like.     Nobody  knows  about  this  wine. 

"Yours,  O.  Slanning. 

"  P.S.  —  I'm  taking  this  to  Okehampton  to  send  along  with 
the  liquor." 

Thus  the  amiable  fool  had  written,  and  thus  he  had 
done,  when  his  wife's  back  was  turned.  The  audacity 
of  such  a  deed  Dodd  could  not  estimate,  but  much 
reflection  and  some  courage  had  gone  to  it.  Life  had 
touched  even  this  noisy  and  silly  soul  to  gentleness  at 
some  points.  He  much  desired  offspring,  and  to  see 
another  man  thus  robbed  of  his  child  had  moved  his 
heart.  He  told  himself  in  secret  that  he  would  pro- 
ceed no  more  against  Wolferstan.  He  was  exceedingly- 
frightened  at  what  had  been  done,  and  his  wife's  pri- 
vate satisfaction  also  rendered  him  unquiet.  He  feared 
an  hour  of  retribution.  Impressions,  however,  never 
lasted  long  with  him,  and  Primrose  ignored  his  pro- 
tests, well  knowing  that  they  arose  from  emotion  and 
not  conviction.  But  he,  while  the  remorseful  fit  was 
on  him,  cast  about  how  to  atone  in  some  sort  for  the 
wrong ;  and  he  fell  back  upon  the  idea  of  a  gift  and 
despatched  it  in  secret  from  Okehampton. 

Wolferstan  regarded  the  bottles  and  the  letter.  He 
had  opened  the  case  in  a  scullery  adjoining  his  kitchen, 
and  now,  suddenly,  he  picked  a  bottle  from  the  straw, 
took  it  to  the  sink,  snapped  off  the  head  and  let  the 
wine  run  away.  With  the  second  and  third  he  did 
the  same  ;  then,  holding  the  fourth,  he  stopped  and 
asked  himself  what  he  was  about.  He  felt  his  heart 
throbbing  and  knew  that  rage  ruled  him  like  a  slave. 
The  smell  of  the  wine  seemed  to  increase  it;  and  the 
underconsciousness  of  his  own  folly  was  the  last  ingre- 


358  THE    PORTREEVE 

dient  in  that  pitiful  mood.  He  believed  this  act  of 
Slanning's  to  be  a  deadly  insult;  and  he  did  not  stop 
to  read  the  real  significance  of  the  letter.  His  judg- 
ment was  poisoned ;  his  passion  held  him  ;  but  he 
made  no  effort  to  control  it.  Conscious  of  the  smell 
of  the  liquor,  he  went  into  the  air  with  the  rest,  and  flung 
bottle  after  bottle  at  a  granite  post,  until  a  great  black 
pool  reflected  the  red  sky  and  much  splintered  glass 
glittered  in  the  light  of  the  morning. 

Then,  even  as  he  broke  the  final  bottle,  great  con- 
trition touched  him,  and  abundant  shame  flooded  his 
soul.  None  had  seen  his  madness,  but  he  felt  the  eye 
of  his  God  upon  him,  and  the  sense  of  his  own  little- 
ness and  feebleness  crushed  him  to  the  earth.  He 
cleared  up  the  glass,  threw  sand  over  the  spilt  wine, 
then  returned  to  his  house  and  read  Slanning's  letter 
again.  Now  he  saw  the  virtue  in  it  as  well  as  the 
vanity.  He  guessed  that  Slanning  felt  more  kindly  ; 
he  understood  that  even  this  empty  man  could  grow 
soft  for  desire  of  a  child. 

Wolferstan's  mind  leapt  to  penance  and  he  asked 
himself  what  he  must  do  to  punish  himself  for  his 
offence.  He  had  committed  a  series  of  crimes  in  the 
space  of  ten  minutes.  He  had  misread  another's 
action  ;  he  had  cursed  a  well-meaning  fellow-creature ; 
he  had  lost  his  temper  utterly  and,  like  an  unreason- 
ing brute,  destroyed  valuable  and  precious  things.  The 
liquid  that  might  have  brought  strength  to  sick  crea- 
tures ;  the  generous  wine,  with  all  its  power  to  lift  up 
and  soothe  and  strengthen,  was  in  the  dust.  He  would 
never  have  let  his  wife  drink  it ;  but  that  was  no  reason 
why  it  should  go  undrunk.  He  felt  the  necessity  for 
repairing  this  waste.  Wine  of  exactly  similar  quality 
must  be  drunk  by  those  who  could  not  afford  to  buy 
it.  Only  so  was  it  possible  to  let  Slanning's  good 
action  answer  its  purpose. 


ORLANDO    IS    DISLOYAL  359 

He  returned  to  the  broken  glass  and  found  that  the 
bottles  were  not  labelled.  Then  he  looked  at  the  case 
and  saw  the  name  of  an  Okehampton  tradesman 
thereon. 

Hither  he  went  later  in  the  day,  and  presently  sent 
a  dozen  bottles  of  the  port  to  the  workhouse,  in  Or- 
lando Shinning's  name.  At  the  same  time  he  left  a 
letter  with  the  wine-merchant,  that  Orlando  might  re- 
ceive it  without  his  wife's  knowledge. 

But  satisfaction  at  its  receipt  gave  place  to  astonish- 
ment when  the  other  learnt  how  his  gift  of  wine  had 
been  handed  to  the  poor.  First  he  was  angry  with 
Wolferstan  ;  then,  dimly  perceiving  the  propriety  of 
the  act,  he  was  pleased.  He  feared  his  wife  might  get 
to  hear  of  it,  but  she  only  learnt,  as  the  rest  of  their 
world  learnt,  that  Orlando  Slanning  Esquire  had  pre- 
sented a  dozen  bottles  of  old  port  for  the  use  of  the 
aged  at  the  Union  Workhouse. 

The  local  paper  announced  it,  and  Primrose  in- 
stantly accosted  her  husband,  who  was  in  the  room 
when   she  read  the  statement  of  his  generosity. 

"  Whatever  will  you  do  next  ? "  she  asked,  putting 
down  the  paper. 

"  My  name  there  ?  I've  not  been  doing  anything, 
have  I  ?     Is  it  the  run  last  week,?" 

"  No  —  this  port  for  the  paupers  —  what  non- 
sense !" 

"  I  thought  it  rather  a  good  idea,  Prim  —  really." 

"  I  dare  say ;  but  whose  idea  was  it  —  that's  the 
point.?" 

"  My  own  —  a  sudden  flash." 

She  looked  doubtful. 

"  One  would  think  you  were  going  to  run  for  Par- 
liament, or  something.  Not  that  I  mind  an  atom. 
I'm  delighted  you  did  it ;  only  why  have  kept  it  from 
me?" 


36o  THE   PORTREEVE 

"Not  intentionally.  I  meant  to  have  told  you  — 
really.      But  I  clean  forgot  it." 

"  What  did  it  cost .?  " 

"  Sixty  bob  —  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  invalid  port 
— just  the  thing  for  those  poor  old  boys." 

"  A  ridiculous  price  !  Don't  do  these  wild  deeds 
without  telling  me,  Orlando.  It's  very  noble  ;  but 
it's  also  rather  silly.  They  would  all  have  liked  some 
good  humming  'October'  very  much  better." 

"  Never  again  —  solemn  word,"  he  said. 

He  was  much  relieved  that  the  truth  had  not  trans- 
pired ;  but  once  having  dared  to  take  a  step  without 
the  knowledge  of  Primrose,  he  ventured  others  in 
various  innocent  directions,  and  secured  a  little  fearful 
pleasure  therefrom.  Only  one  of  these  actions  em- 
braced the  Wolferstans.  It  was  presently  known  that 
Ilet  had  gone  up  to  Exeter  for  an  operation  ;  and  upon 
the  occasion  of  visiting  the  city  alone,  Slanning  called 
at  the  hospital  and  inquired  concerning  her  progress. 
He  left  no  name  but  merely  expressed  satisfaction  on 
being  informed  that  she  was  making  a  good  recovery. 


CHAPTER   X 


AT    '  SLANNING  S 


THE  attitude  of  certain  persons  to  Wolferstan  was 
now  clearly  marked  and  for  the  most  part  under- 
stood. 

Mr.  Horn  continued  to  ignore  him  ;  but  Mrs.  Horn 
had  long  since  forgiven  the  man  and  much  regretted 
Ilet's  misfortune,  though  she  held  that  in  some  ways 
the  affair  was  sadder  for  Primrose  than  the  actual  suf- 
ferer. Orlando  for  his  part  regretted  these  incidents, 
and  even  showed  his  regret;  only  Primrose  continued 
unchanged  and  had  not  bated  one  atom  of  her  deter- 
minations. But  for  the  time  she  was  content  to  wait 
and  watch  awhile.  She  knew  not  the  full  extent  of  the 
physical  mischief  for  which  she  was  responsible  ;  yet 
even  the  fact  that  Ilet  might  bear  no  more,  must  have 
seemed  small  to  her  beside  the  greater  matter  of  Wolf- 
erstan's  demoralisation.  The  wife's  body  was  a  lesser 
interest  than  the  husband's  soul.  She  wondered  much 
concerning  that  and  its  development.  She  wished  that 
an  opportunity  would  offer  for  seeing  him  at  close 
hand  and  studying  the  face  she  knew  so  well.  It  would 
tell  her  at  a  glance  of  progress  —  retrograde  or  the 
reverse. 

Opportunity,  however,  did  not  offer,  and  for  a  con- 
siderable time  no  news  of  the  Wolferstans  reached 
her. 

It  was  not  until  late  spring  that  Ilet  found  herself 
strong  again.  Then  came  an  evening,  when  old  Mrs. 
Pierce  declared  that  the  patient  was  equal   to  life's  full 

361 


362  THE    PORTREEVE 

task  once  more,  and  announced  her  own  intention  to 
return  to  her  cottage. 

This,  however,  Wolferstan  refused  to  permit. 

"  You  don't  leave  us  again,"  he  said.  "  This  thing 
have  brought  you  into  our  hearts  in  a  way  that  I  could 
never  have  dreamed  of.  We  couldn't  get  forward  with- 
out you  —  and  no  more  could  the  little  girl." 

"  'Tis  of  her  I'm  thinking,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  I  know  full  well  when  your  eye  lights  on  her  what's 
behind  it.  I'm  sorry  to  the  soul  for  you  that  you 
can't  have  such  another,  owing  to  the  will  of  God." 

"  Leave  that.  But  don't  fear.  I  love  the  child  very 
well  —  almost  as  well  as  you  do  in  a  way,  because  you 
love  it  for  its  father  and  I  love  it  for  its  mother.  Ban't 
that  reason,  Abner .?  " 

Mr.  Barkell  and  his  son  had  walked  to  see  the  Wolf- 
erstans  this  night ;  and  they  heard  with  great  gladness 
that  Ilet  had  recovered  complete  health  again. 

"  Trust  her,"  answered  old  Barkell,  "  Trust  Henny 
Pierce  to  understand  such  a  thing,  though  I  speak  to 
her  face.  Sorrow's  like  frost,  Dodd.  Some  it  kills 
outright  and  some  it  sweetens.  Some  soft  souls  it 
freezes,  beyond  our  poor  power  to  thaw ;  and  some, 
built  tougher,  it  do  mellow  into  a  large  patience  and 
trust  in  their  Heavenly  Father  and  a  great  power  of 
sharing  other  folks'  grief.  So  with  Henny  here  :  her 
troubles  have  made  larger  the  heart  that  nearly  broke 
under  'em.  She  hath  the  gift  of  comfort  and  she've 
paid  for  the  gift  with  God  He  knows  how  many  tears." 

"  Must  take  Him  all  His  holy  time  to  count  that 
money,"  said  the  younger  Barkell.  "  If  tears  was 
working  cash,  you  women  might  all  be  bankers." 

"And  so  they  be  working  cash — up-along ;  an' 
p^ood  interest  paid,"  answered  his  father.  "  But  'tis  a 
moment  for  laughter,  not  tears.  Dash  my  old  wig,  I 
could  dance  to  see  you  so  peart  and  spry  again,  Ilet !  " 


AT    'SLANNING'S'  363 

"  Nought  matters  now  I've  got  her  on  her  feet," 
declared  Dodd.  "These  two  women  be  always  crying 
out  about  money  ;  but  what's  money  if  we  have  no 
power  of  nature  in  us  ?  How  could  I  spend  my  stuff 
better  than  the  way  I  have  done  ?  " 

"  I  hope  there'll  be  plenty  of  money  presently,  my 
dears,"  said  old  Barkell. 

"We've  got  what's  better — Ilet  well  again.  Only 
this  morning,  too,  there  came  an  offer  for  pictures.  It's 
going  back  a  bit,  for  I  thought  I'd  long  done  with 
small  things  like  that;  still,  money's  money,  and  I 
shall  do  the  photographs." 

"  Quite  right  — do  anything.  Everybody's  on  your 
side,"  said  Dicky.  "  We've  all  felt  how  hard  it  was 
and  how  tight  money  must  have  been ;  but  trust  you 
to  put  all  right  very  quick,  now  you've  got  her  back." 

"The  truth  is,"  admitted  Dodd,  "that  I've  neg- 
lected my  business  a  bit  of  late.  You  can't  have  your 
mind  in  two  places  at  once,  and  it  was  never  very  far 
from  Exeter  while  my  woman  stopped  there.  Now 
I've  got  to  get  going  again  and  make  up  for  lost  time. 
I'm  just  as  ambitious  as  ever  I  was,  though  Dick  here 
may  laugh  to  hear  it.  But  I  know  where  I  want  to 
get  very  well.  This  is  only  a  setback,  owing  to  these 
trials.  We  shall  soon  be  up  again  now.  What  mat- 
ters? What  looks  big  and  what  looks  difficult  now 
that  I've  got  her  again  ^     Nothing  !  " 

These  words  he  meant  with  all  his  heart,  for  love 
had  grown  mightily  by  what  it  fed  on.  Now,  indeed, 
through  passage  of  years,  Ilet  had  become  the  first  joy 
and  pride  of  the  man's  life,  and  her  happiness  was  at 
last  actually  his  highest  ambition.  Many  others  he 
still  cherished  and  secretly  clung  to,  though  without 
the  old  assurance  and  determination  ;  but  his  wife  came 
first.  His  love  had  waxed  at  sight  of  her  sufferings, 
and  he  was  more  than  ever  devoted  to  her. 


364  THE   PORTREEVE 

Her  illness,  however,  proved  very  expensive,  and 
money  was  scarce,  Wolferstan  had  lost  certain  oppor- 
tunities during  the  last  few  months,  and  now  blamed 
himself  sharply.  But  with  the  return  of  summer  to 
the  world  and  health  to  his  wife,  all  prospects  looked 
fairer,  and  he  braced  himself  to  face  life.  Already  he 
had  undertaken  to  do  several  small  things  involving 
commissions  ;  but  they  were  tasks  that  belonged  to  ten 
years  before  and  represented  a  backward  movement  in 
prosperity.  The  outlook  was  considerably  modified 
by  recent  circumstances,  for  there  would  be  none  now 
to  hand  on  his  name.  But,  while  the  fact  diminished 
his  happiness,  it  did  not  lessen  his  ambition.  He  had 
dwelt  on  this  aspect  of  the  future  to  Dicky  Barkell, 
and  been  interested  at  the  signalman's  reply. 

"  A  man  with  no  relations  ?"  said  Dicky.  "  You're 
out  there.  Get  high  enough,  and  you'll  find  an  heir 
very  quick.  Every  rich  man  can  get  as  many  of  'em 
as  he  pleases.  Give  me  a  million  of  money  to-morrow 
and  I'll  find  a  loving  relation,  called  Barkell,  for  every 
ten  thousand  pound  of  it." 

Elsewhere  the  name  of  Dodd  had  been  thrown  up 
again  between  other  people,  and  it  happened  that 
Orlando's  change  of  attitude  was  discovered  by  his 
wife. 

The  Slannlngs  had  given  a  summer  party  and  the 
guests  were  gone.  Together  husband  and  wife  strolled 
about  their  garden  afterwards  and  discussed  the  enter- 
tainment. '  Slanning's '  was  an  ancient  abode,  built 
on  the  foundations  of  one  still  more  ancient.  The 
mill  stood  removed  from  the  dwelling-house  by  fifty 
yards,  but  a  garden  had  been  built  and  planted  round 
about  it.  Along  the  edge  of  the  mill-leat  flowers  pros- 
pered, and  the  stream  that  drove  the  wheel,  also 
worked  a  fountain  which  leapt  from  an  old  stone  basin 


AT    'SLANNING'S'  365 

in  a  plot  of  grass.  Borders  of  plants  surrounded  three 
sides  of  this  enclosure,  and  along  the  fourth  the  mill- 
race  went  and  the  huge  circumference  of  the  wheel 
appeared.  It  was  black  and  mossy  and  the  music  of 
the  dripping  water  made  a  tinkling  treble  to  the  deeper 
and  subdued  thunder  of  the  machinery  within.  Along 
the  brink  common  blossoms  prospered  in  a  medley. 
Here  opium  poppies,  red  musk,  irises,  tall  yellow 
money-worts,  ferns  and  meadow-sweets  made  a  pleasant 
bank,  from  behind  which,  in  June  twilights.  Primrose 
sometimes  threw  a  fly  and  caught  a  trout  feeding  at 
dusk. 

Now  she  walked  here  beside  her  husband,  and  he 
smoked  a  cigarette  and  made  fun  of  the  various  neigh- 
bours who  had  accepted  their  hospitality. 

"  Did  you  see  the  vicar?  By  Jove  !  He  got  away 
from  his  women-folk  into  a  corner  all  by  himself,  and 
went  for  the  strawberries  and  cream  like  a  wolf!  And 
old  Adams  drank  three  great  tumblers  of  claret  cup  to 
his  own  cheek,  then  went  over  to  Miss  Minifie  and 
began  making  risky  jokes  !  Her  face  was  a  caution  — 
like  a  dead  fish  trying  to  blush  !  " 

Primrose  smiled.  She  was  well  dressed  in  a  cos- 
tume that  restrained  and  concealed  the  growing  con- 
tours of  her  form.  But  years  told  lightly  upon  her 
face,  and  acquaintances  secretly  marvelled  to  see  a 
blonde  wear  so  well. 

Presently  her  husband  interested  her. 

"  Thorpe  was  talking  to  me  this  afternoon  about 
Dodd  Wolferstan.  It  seems  that  he  has  been  rather 
quiet — Wolferstan  I  mean — since  his  wife  smashed 
up.     And  Thorpe  is  going  to  offer  him  a  job." 

"  What  sort  of  job  ?  " 

"  He's  heard  a  lot  of  Wolferstan's  virtues  from  the 
parson  at  Okehampton,  and  a  lot  of  his  cleverness 
from  other  people ;  so  he  means  to  kill  two  birds  with 


366  THE    PORTREEVE 

one  stone  and  give  the  chap  a  lift  and  do  himself  good 
too. 

"  Cattle,  of  course  —  a  buying  commission,  I  sup- 
pose.    What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  any  business  of  mine.  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing.    Yes  —  I  did  :  I  said  I  was  glad." 

"Really?" 

"  I  was  glad.     The  wretched  beggar  —  well  —  not 

to  have  any  kids,  you  know  —  I This  job  in 

Derbyshire  will  put  twenty  or  thirty  pounds  in  his 
pocket." 

"  This  is  interesting.  You'll  say  you're  sorry  for 
Wolferstan  presently." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  far  short  of  the  truth  if  I  did." 

"  Come  and  sit  down,"  she  said,  "and  explain  your- 
self. You've  surprised  me.  Does  Wolferstan  know 
of  this  idea  of  Mr.  Thorpe's  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  it  has  been  mentioned  to  him  and  he  is 
keen  about  it." 

They  took  a  seat  in  the  shade,  and  Primrose  came 
to  the  point  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  telling  me  this  ? "  she 
asked.  "It  was  reasonable  to  mention  it;  but  you 
seem   in  two  minds  yourself." 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  at  all.  I'll  out  with  it :  I 
want  him  to  have  the  work.  Surely  he's  hit  hard 
enough.  Prim.  Can't  you  —  I  don't  say  forgive  him, 
but  forget  him  ?  Isn't  it  time  now  we  —  you  under- 
stand ?  " 

She  stared  in  real  astonishment,  for  her  husband 
amazed  her.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that 
he  had  done  so.  This  immense  change  of  attitude  he 
had  managed  to  conceal  until  the  present.  Now  he 
himself  felt  the  significance  of  his  revelation,  and  was 
half  frightened,  half  defiant. 

"  Say  all  you've  got  to  say,"  she  answered,  "  then 


AT    'SLANNING'S'  367 

I'll  speak  to  you,  if  I   may.       You've  been  dding  a 
deal    of    hard  thinking  on  your  own  account,  dear." 

"Not  more  than  usual  —  but  there  it  is:  I'm  sick 
of  bullying  this  poor  devil.  It's  not  fair  fighting  — 
as  a  sportsman  I  speak.  We've  got  the  money  and 
brains  and  power,  and  everything.  He's  got  nothing 
but  an  invalid  wife.  I  can  speak  to  you,  of  course  : 
it's  silly  to  mince  words  about  it.  You  did  worse  than 
even  you  hoped  to  do  when  you  knocked  her  out 
of  time  last  winter." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  hate  you  when  you  sit  so  damned  quiet.  If 
you're  angry  with  me,  be  angry.  Don't  look  like 
something  waiting  to  jump.  You  see.  Primrose,  I'm 
getting  on  —  not  a  boy  any  more,  worse  luck.  And 
one  can't  live  in  the  world  and  have  hard  knocks  and 
disappointments  and  be  the  same.  It's  no  good  my 
not  saying  I'm  sorry  for  the  man,  because  I  am. 
Can't  you  see  what  I  mean  ?  We  feel  kind  even  to  a 
fox  who  has  given  us  a  real  good  run,  and  don't  mind 
if  he  beats  us  at  the  finish.  Well  —  it's  like  that. 
Can't  you  call  'em  off  now  ?  You've  had  your  fun 
surely  ?      He's  showed  sport  too." 

"Is  that  quite  all  ?" 

"Yes,  it  is.  I  say  I'm  glad  he's  going  to  have  this 
work.  Live  and  let  five's  a  very  good  motto.  You 
may  push  this  too  far :  a  worm  will  turn." 

"Quite  all?" 

"Yes  —  except  that  I'm  not  going  on  with  it  —  not 
a  day  more.  I'm  a  big  man  in  this  place  and  I  don't 
want  things  to  come  out  that  would  make  me  look  a 
small  one.  Nobody's  got  one  word  against  me,  and 
nobody  ever  shall  have.  I  can't  stand  this  persecution 
any  more,  and  I  hope  you  feel  the  same.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  religion,  though  the  better  class  of 
people  laugh  at  it.     Anyway,  when  a  man  gets  on,  he 


368  THE    PORTREEVE 

begins  to  take  life  seriously,  and  I   think  we've  been 
wrong,  and  I'm  going  to  chuck  it." 

"  I  quite  see,  dear  Orlando.  I'm  sure  you  mean 
most  sensibly,  and  I  know  this  man  can't  look  the 
same  from  your  point  of  view  as  he  does  from  mine. 
I  allow  for  that.  I  grant  more  :  you've  got  to  thank 
him  for  me  —  haven't  you  ?" 

"  In  a  sort  of  way,  yes." 

"  Then  see  how  reasonable  I  am.  You're  always 
worth  listening  to,  and  your  opinions  are  usually  fol- 
lowed —  by  men  especially,  and  by  me  always.  But 
in  this  matter  there's  another  side.  As  you  say,  we 
must  live  and  let  live.  But  there's  another  motto. 
A  bargain's  a  bargain.  A  very  clear  and  definite  under- 
standing went  to  our  marriage  —  didn't  it,  dear?" 

"If  it  did?" 

"  You  want  to  be  honourable  and  upright  and  all 
that.  So  you  are  always  —  everybody  knows  it.  But 
honour  begins  at  home,  don't  you  think  ?  You  must 
try  and  bring  back  the  past  a  little  clearer  to  your 
memory." 

"  It's  devilish  to  keep  the  past  so  jolly  clear  as 
you  do." 

"Not  devilish  in  me  —  merely  characteristic.  It 
cuts  both  ways,  a  good  memory." 

"  People  will  begin  to  see  it.  There's  the  practical 
side,  as  well  as  the  moral.  He  knows  what  we're  up 
to  well  enough  by  this  time.  Suppose  he  begins  to 
talk  of  it  and  tell  others,  and  explain  to  them  how 
every  bit  of  his  bad  luck  one  way  and  another  can  be 
traced  back  to  you  —  to  us  ?  I  can't  be  pointed  at 
as  a  man  who  is  hounding  another  man  to  misery." 

"  That  rests  entirely  with  you.  If  Wolferstan  made 
any  such  ridiculous  statement,  it  would  only  be  laughed 
at  as  a  brain-sick  fancy.  Not  one  stroke  could  be  brought 
home  to  you  — or  to  me.     What  did  I  marry  you  for. 


AT    'SLANNING'S'  369 

Orlando  ?     Answer  that  question  and  you'll   see  you 
are  saying  these  things  too  late." 

"  But  the  end  of  it  ?  You're  not  going  on  for  ever 
surely  ?  " 

"  You  won't  answer  my  question,  dear." 

"  I  grant  when  you  agreed  to  marry  me  that  I  prom- 
ised with  my  whole  heart  to  help  you  punish  the 
beggar;  and  I've  kept  the  promise.  We've  made 
him  smart ;  we've  driven  it  home.  But  we  can't  go 
on  for  ever." 

"  There  was  no  limitation.     It  will  go  on  for  ever." 

"  Is  it  good  enough .?  " 

"  The  good  of  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter. 
You  married  me  with  your  eyes  open.  I  might  really 
be  angry  with  you,  Orlando.  Some  people  faced  with 
this  would  be  quite  furious.  To  be  disloyal  is  worse 
than  to  be  unfaithful  in  the  eyes  of  many  women. 
But  I  know  you  too  well  to  be  angry,  and  admire  you 
far  too  much.  Shall  I  tell  you  how  this  has  come 
about  ?  " 

"  It's  conscience,  I  reckon." 

"  No,  it  isn't.  It's  because  you  play  such  a  big  game 
and  have  such  a  number  of  irons  in  the  fire,  that  you 
can't  keep  everything  in  your  mind  at  once.  Even 
your  memory  isn't  made  of  iron.  You  undertake 
such  a  tremendous  deal  of  work,  and  you  are  so  prom- 
inent here,  that  there  simply  isn't  time  for  you  to 
remember  everything.  But  you  mustn't  be  cross  if  I 
remind  you  now  and  then.  This  looks  small  to  your 
masculine  intelligence.  But  wait  a  minute  and  glance 
back.  Think  how  you  swore  at  that  gallant  tramp 
who  kissed  his  hand  to  me  last  week.  Well,  this 
tramp  kissed  my  face  —  touched  me  —  put  his  arms 
round  me,  pretended  he  was  going  to  marry  me. 
Remember  that.  Remember  that  once  your  wife  was 
an  innocent  girl,  and   that  a  certain   man  played  with 

2B 


370 


THE    PORTREEVE 


her,  fooled  her,  insulted  her.  Does  time  alter  that  or 
make  it  smaller  ?  It  was  yesterday  !  The  beggar  on 
the  road  meant  a  compliment  in  his  coarse  way  ;  Wolf- 
erstan  —  what  did  he  mean  ?  What  did  he  do  ? 
Had  he  outraged  me,  I  couldn't  have  suffered  worse 
than  I  have  suffered.  He  did  outrage  me,  for  that 
matter.  If  you'd  been  there,  you'd  have  killed  him. 
Poisoned  my  life,  deflowered  my  virgin  lips  —  for 
what  ^  To  laugh  at  me  for  ever  !  Don't  say  you  for- 
give it,  Orlando,  because  I  know  right  well  you  can- 
not. You  love  me  too  dearly  for  that.  Nothing  was 
ever  too  great  for  you  to  do  for  me ;  nothing  was  ever 
too  small.  That's  love  in  the  grand  style.  And  hate 
in  the  grand  style's  the  same.  Nothing's  too  big, 
nothing's  too  little." 

"  Don't  think  I  forgive  anybody  living  who  ever 
did  you  a  wrong." 

"  You  couldn't,  Orlando.  And  why  should  you 
expect  me  to  do  so  ?  Is  it  the  least  of  this  man's 
faults  that  he  despised  you,  sneered  at  you,  dared  to 
laugh  at  you  in  his  vanity  and  ignorance  ?  " 

"  I  believe  the  wretched  fellow  actually  did  — once  ; 
but  not  now,  I  fancy." 

"  Not  openly,  no  doubt.  Because  the  countryside 
wouldn't  stand  it.  But  '  wolves  do  change  their  hair, 
not  their  hearts.'  He's  the  same  man  still.  You 
think  he's  learnt  the  lesson  you've  taught  him.  I 
know  better.  Behind  your  back  he  still  laughs  at  you 
and  boasts  of  what  he  did  to  me." 

"If  I  thought  that " 

"  You  don't  think  it ;  you're  too  large-hearted  and 
generous  to  think  it.  You  judge  others  by  yourself 
and  cannot  imagine  people  doing  wicked,  underhand 
things,  because  you  couldn't  do  them.  But  trust  a 
wronged  woman  to  read  character.  If  he  had  the 
power,  he'd  make  us  a  laughing-stock  to-morrow." 


AT    'SLANNING'S' 


371 


Orlando  considered. 

"  He  certainly  said  '  poor  Slanning.'      But  ages  ago." 

"  And  how  often  has  he  said  it  since  ?  Do  you 
trust  a  snake  ?  Then  why  trust  him  ?  Do  you  pity  a 
cat  shot  for  poaching?  Then  why  pity  him  ^  His 
place  is  under  your  feet.  He  wronged  you  when  he 
wronged  me.  He  —  I  hate  to  think  you  can  be  on 
his  side  against  me,  Orlando.  It  has  grieved  me  and 
made  me  feel  old  and  wretched.  If  I  thought  —  if  I 
thought  you  were  beginning  not  to  love  me " 

She  broke  off  and  felt  for  her  handkerchief.  He 
swore  and  thundered,  and  damned  Wolferstan  by  all 
his  gods. 

"Not  to  love  you  —  you,  who  are  my  life!  The 
dust  is  the  place  for  him.  Let  him  get  there  —  the 
quicker  the  better.  The  man  who  could  bring  a  tear 
to  your  cheek  !  Good  God  Almighty  !  He  deserves 
worse  —  a  million  times  worse  than  he's  got  —  a  million 
times  worse  ! " 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  do  anything  at  all,"  she  said. 
"  Far  from  that.  Go  your  way  and  let  him  go  his. 
Your  way  and  his  are  as  different  as  light  from  dark- 
ness. Let  him  alone.  The  seeds  of  failure  are  in  him, 
but  we  did  not  sow  them,  and  it  is  not  our  place  to 
weed  them  out." 

"  You've  opened  my  eyes  a  bit.  When  people  can 
drag  tears  out  of  you,  by  God,  it's  time  I  did  some- 
thing." 

"  There  are  not  many  men  who  love  their  wives  in 
the  way  that  you  do." 

"  I'll  ask  Thorpe  to  think  twice,  anyway,  and  not 
send  Wolferstan  to  Derbyshire." 

Primrose  considered. 

"  I  know  a  better  plan.  You've  never  killed  a  trout 
in  the  Derwent.  Why  not  do  so  ?  A  month  on  the 
Peak  —  instead  of  Wales.     We've  often  thought  of  it." 


372  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  By  Gad,  what  a  mind  you've  got  !  Lightning's  a 
fool  to  it.  You  mean  that  if  we  were  going  up,  Thorpe 
would  come  himself?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't  mean  that.  But  if  we  were  going, 
he'd  very  likely  ask  you  to  look  at  the  cattle  for  him. 
Your  judgment  is  as  good  as  Wolferstan's  and  a  thou- 
sand times  better." 

"No,  no,  I  don't  say  that.  The  man  knows  his 
business." 

"  So   does    Mr.  Thorpe.     At  any  rate  if  we  go  to 

Derbyshire " 

"  He'd  come.  If  you  gave  him  half  a  ghost  of  a  hint 
you'd  like  him  to,  of  course  he  would.  He's  such  a  pal 
of  yours." 

"  He's  a  sensible  young  fellow,  and  he  cultivates  us 
for  your  wisdom,  not  my  good  looks." 

"  Of  course  if  he  went  north  with  us,  he  wouldn't 
want  Wolferstan  to  go  ?  " 
"  Naturally." 

A  servant  came  to  tell  Orlando  that  somebody  wished 
to  speak  with  him,  and  he  returned  to  the  house. 

Primrose  strolled  a  little  further,  then  sat  down  by 
the  mill-race  and  watched  a  trout  feeding. 

She  smiled  slightly  to  herself,  as  one  smiles  who  has 
conquered  a  child. 


CHAPTER   XI 


THE    SILENT    PLACES 


THE  young  man  Thorpe,  mentioned  by  Orlando, 
was  an  admirer  of  Primrose.  When  he  heard 
that  the  Slannings  were  going  into  Derbyshire 
and  rather  hoped  to  meet  him  there,  the  thing  that 
Primrose  desired  fell  out.  Thorpe  decided  to  see  the 
stock  in  question  himself,  and  combine  business  with 
pleasure.  The  necessity  of  employing  Wolferstan 
ceased  to  exist,  and  he  wrote  and  said  as  much. 

Dodd  was  keenly  disappointed,  and  anon,  when  he 
learnt  that  the  Slannings  were  also  in  Derbyshire,  his 
life  stood  still.  For  two  whole  days  he  desisted  from 
work  and  took  himself  up  to  the  silent  places  of  the 
Moor  that  he  might  weigh  the  force  of  this  new  cir- 
cumstance. The  commission,  had  he  purchased,  must 
have  brought  him  some  little  profit.  It  was  a  small 
thing,  yet  rather  than  he  should  have  it.  Primrose 
Slanning  had  gone  for  a  week  into  Derbyshire  and  so 
tempted  Thorpe  to  change  all  his  plans  and  accom- 
pany her  north.  Thus  he  read  the  matter,  and  with 
such  force  did  he  point  his  conclusion,  that  nearly  he 
convinced  his  wife  against  her  will. 

"  None  not  blind  could  miss  this,"  he  said,  "  and  it 
proves  what  I've  long  known  and  what  you've  long 
refused  to  know.  Nothing's  too  small  for  her  now. 
She'd  take  the  bread  out  of  our  mouths  if  she  could, 
and  see  us  starve.     She'll  do  so  yet  if  she  can." 

"  If  you  are  so  positive  of  it,  why  go  on  like  this 

373 


374 


THE    PORTREEVE 


then  ?     She's  only  a  woman,  after  all.     There  must  be 
some  way  of  getting  at  her." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  there  isn't.  And,  if  there  was,  1  wouldn't 
take  it.  I'm  stronger  than  she  is.  The  luck's  been 
on  her  side  —  that's  all.  It  will  turn  again.  A  day  of 
reckoning  must  come." 

"  Let's  have  a  long  tell  about  it  to-morrow,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  going  up  on  the  Moor  to  pick  hurts  for  a 
tart  Sunday,  and  you  can  take  the  pictures  you  prom- 
ised to  do.  Do  'e  go  along  with  me.  We'll  have  a 
quiet  time  all  alone,  and  look  all  round  this  and  think 
solemn  and  serious  about  it.  I  begin  to  see  you  must 
be  right.  We  can't  go  on  slipping  down  hill,  dear 
Dodd.  If  she's  so  evil  and  so  strong,  we  must  see  to 
it  and  protect  ourselves  against  her." 

"  Yes,  or  hit  back.  You  look  surprised,  Ilet ;  but 
it  may  have  to  come  to  that.  I'm  not  a  sheep,  but  a 
man,  and  not  a  particular  weak  man  neither.  This 
can't  go  on.  Christ  Himself  had  to  strike  once  or 
twice.  'Tis  no  Christian  part  to  forget  you're  a  man. 
I'm  not  going  to  be  galled  and  gallied  into  my  grave 
by  that  devil.  But  I'd  sooner  hear  you  speak  about 
it  than  anybody,  now  I've  convinced  your  mind  that 
what  I've  seen  so  long  is  true.  You  thought  me  un- 
charitable and  quick  to  think  evil.  You  even  stuck  up 
for  her  on  the  bed  of  sickness  where  she  put  you  ;  but 
you  can't  any  more  after  this.  She's  shown  her  game 
clear  enough  now,  so  'tis  for  us  to  play  a  card  for  a 
change." 

The  next  day  opened  fair  on  the  confines  of  another 
autumn.  The  hours  shone  graciously,  and  husband 
and  wife  moved  with  some  afterglow  of  old-time  hap- 
piness together  along  the  waste.  The  topic  they  had 
gone  out  to  discuss  was  evaded  from  hour  to  hour  ;  Ilet 
picked  berberries;  Wolferstan  loafed  beside  her,  smoked 


THE   SILENT    PLACES  375 

many  pipes  of  tobacco,  and  then,  when  the  light  was 
kindly  and  the  sun  had  turned  into  the  west,  set  up 
his  camera  and  took  certain  views  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  High  Willhayes. 

They  had  drifted  half  a  mile  apart,  and  Ilet,  busy  at 
her  work,  only  stopped  when  a  big  basket  was  nearly 
full.  Then  she  turned  with  keen  eyes,  marked  the 
trident  of  his  camera  standing  far  distant,  and  trudged 
back  to  it.  The  thing  reared  solitary  and  the  velvet 
cloth  had  been  blown  off  it.  She  picked  this  up  and 
looked  round  for  Dodd ;  but  it  was  some  time  before 
she  found  him.  Then  a  brown  leather  case  attracted 
her  attention,  and  she  remembered  it  as  that  which  he 
carried  beside  Oke,  when  he  met  her  on  Black  Tor 
Copse,  and  again  asked  her  to  marry  him.  For  a 
while  she  reflected  upon  those  moments,  and  considered 
how  much  more  they  must  have  meant  to  her  husband 
than  to  herself.  He  had  told  her  everything  concern- 
ing that  day,  and  how  he  was  actually  going  to  offer 
marriage  to  another  woman,  when  he  met  her  and  found 
his  purpose  crumble  before  her. 

She  turned,  looked  hither  and  thither,  then  suddenly 
found  Dodd.  He  had  set  up  his  camera  and  waited 
for  the  sun  to  go  round  somewhat ;  then  he  had  sunk 
into  drowsiness  and  so  to  sound  sleep.  Now  his  pipe 
was  upon  the  turf  beside  him  and  he  reposed  with  his 
face  lifted  to  the  light.  But  the  time  was  far  past  for 
his  picture.  The  hour  turned  towards  evening,  and 
the  wilderness  assumed  familiar  phases  under  the  sink- 
ing light  of  the  sun.  It  made  the  barren  planes  to 
glow  ;  it  touched  the  marsh  and  fen  and  featureless, 
blind  streaks  of  stagnant  water  ;  it  warmed  the  ash  grey 
of  the  tors  into  brightness  ;  it  touched  the  heather  to  a 
note  of  flame.  Golden  exhalations  flooded  the  Moor, 
and  something  of  the  red  sun's  self  seemed  kneaded 
into  the  texture  and  composition  of  the  earth.     The 


376  THE    PORTREEVE 

evening  light  deepened  into  sheer  splendour  and  burnt 
over  this  desolation.  Cloud  shadows  sailed  along  the 
waste  no  more,  but  fell  upon  each  other  in  heaven  ;  and 
instead,  the  great  earth  shadows  stretched  easterly  into 
the  valleys  and  spread  between  them  carpets  of  tender 
darkness  fringed  with  the  sunset  fires.  Light  passed 
gently  and  peacefully  away,  as  rare  music  that  sinks 
into  silence ;  the  afterglow  waxed  and  faded ;  detail 
died  and  a  wave  of  monochrome  flowed  gently  over 
all  things.  Yet  darkness  spread  reluctantly  and  the 
smile  of  the  hour  was  followed  by  no  frown.  The 
Moor  enjoyed  that  perfect  and  rare  experience  of 
absolute  peace  succeeding  upon  set  of  sun  —  a  peace 
unvexed  by  one  sigh  of  the  wind,  unshaken  by  the 
least  elemental  sound.  Great  aerial  purity  followed 
day.  From  orange  to  golden  green  the  wide  west 
waned  by  imperceptible  gradation  ;  and  only  one  thread 
of  scarlet  cloud  stretched  under  the  evening  star  where, 
hanging  low  above  the  nether  gloom,  white  Venus 
throbbed  in  glory. 

llet  did  not  immediately  awaken  her  husband.  It 
was  long  since  she  had  seen  his  sleeping  face  by  day- 
light, and  now,  ere  the  light  waned,  she  had  full  leisure 
to  note  it  curiously.  She  sat  down  beside  him  and 
marked  how  the  searching,  low  illumination  showed  a 
sort  of  secret  writing  there  that  she  had  not  read  be- 
fore. His  open  eyes  and  the  vivacity  of  his  look  and 
play  of  facial  life,  had  concealed  this  scrip  until  now  ; 
but  here,  while  he  slumbered  under  the  sky  and  no 
thought  or  action  of  mind  held  muscles  together  or 
woke  expression,  like  an  outline  of  reality,  rather  than 
reality  itself,  his  unconscious  features  lay.  She  saw 
things  set  starkly  forth,  as  a  map  displays  the  world, 
innocent  of  the  mists  and  clouds,  light  and  darkness, 
that  mark  a  living  land ;  because  the  mists  and  clouds 
of  thought,  the  light  and  darkness  of  perception  and 


THE    SILENT    PLACES 


377 


consciousness,  were  for  a  while  banished  from  his  coun- 
tenance. 

She  looked,  and  her  eyes  dimmed  as  she  saw,  so 
that  Ilet  had  to  brush  them  ere  she  could  go  on  seeing. 
Here  were  the  changes  brought  of  battle  —  the  dents 
and  stabs  of  time,  who  suffer  no  year  to  pass  unre- 
corded, no  sigh  to  lift  the  breast,  without  a  visible  sign. 
Every  sorrow,  every  anxiety,  every  frustrated  hope, 
every  error  paid  for,  or  owed  for,  was  marked  there  for 
the  eye  of  love  to  mourn.  She  remembered  his  face  so 
different  only  ten  short  years  earlier.  She  recalled  the 
frankness  of  his  look,  the  courtesy  and  tact  of  his  ways, 
the  eagerness  to  please  and  swiftness  to  win  friendship. 
The  expression  that  went  with  those  qualities  was 
changed ;  the  traits  themselves  were  less  marked. 
Care  had  blunted  his  amiability  and  lessened  his 
anxiety  to  bring  pleasure  to  other  people  ;  anger  had 
wasted  his  vital  energies  somewhat;  unavailing  out- 
bursts, though  rare  enough,  yet  aged  him  when  they 
came  and  left  their  mark  within  and  without. 

In  his  sleep  he  moved  and  shook  his  head  and  said 
*  No '  to  some  dream  suppliant.  It  was  the  typical 
word  that  had  taken  the  place  of  ^  Yes.'  Aforetime  he 
had  prospered  by  concessions  ;  now  he  strove  to  suc- 
ceed with  an  unyielding  attitude,  that  hardened  like  a 
crust  over  his  larger,  younger  nature.  His  life  was  a 
little  soured  and  his  patience  a  little  weakened. 

The  sun  set  on  the  world,  and  Ilet,  lifting  her  eyes, 
marked  it  vanish,  then  turned  to  her  husband's  face 
again.  Had  the  sun  set  there  also  .?  She  asked  her- 
self the  question  not  without  sorrow.  The  sun  of 
heaven  would  again  rise  here  to  glitter  on  miles  of 
silver  dew,  to  thread  gems  into  the  web  and  to  light 
the  torches  of  the  morning  upon  each  crown  of  eastern- 
facing  granite  ;  but  would  the  sun  of  this  man's  soul 
ever  more  burst  through  the  shadows  that  encompassed 


378  THE  PORTREEVE 

him  and  turn  his  night  into  dawn  ?  That  she  could 
ask  questions  so  dark  and  dreadful  startled  her.  She 
shook  herself  free  of  foreboding  and  lifted  up  her  heart 
a  little.  Lasting  sorrow,  indeed,  was  his,  and  irrepara- 
ble loss  ;  he  should  have  no  child  by  her,  he  should 
not  hand  on  the  name  he  bore  ;  but  there  were  worse 
things  that  might  easily  be  escaped.  They  had  each 
other.  She  knew  that  she  was  more  to  him  than  any 
child ;  she  believed  that  she  was  dearer  to  him  than  all 
ambition. 

She  looked  at  him  again  and  saw  the  furrows  that 
were  familiar  and  the  furrows  that  were  new.  The 
old  ones  had  deepened ;  the  new  ones  played  in  gentler 
reticulations  at  the  corners  of  his  shut  eyes  and  between 
his  eyebrows.  He  was  going  a  little  bald,  and  that 
insignificant  circumstance  troubled  her  sometimes  more 
than  the  nakedness  bred  from  the  heart,  that  appeared 
in  his  speech,  method  of  thought  and  view  of  other 
men. 

He  awoke  and  found  her  in  tears. 

"  My  dear  woman,  what's  amiss  ?  "  he  cried. 

She  sat  by  him  and  he  put  his  arms  round  her. 

"Only  my  foolishness  —  looking  at  you  asleep  and 
—  and " 

"Thinking — I  know "  The  waking  anima- 
tion of  his  features  grew  a  little  dim,  and  he  yawned 
drearily.  i  * 

"  Hang  it  all!  —  the  time  for  that  last  picture  has 
gone  past.  I've  been  asleep  for  two  hours ;  and  you've 
been  looking  at  me  and  thinking  how  jolly  old  and 
ugly  I  get  —  eh  ?  " 

"  Not  that,  Dodd  —  only  that  you're  more  care- 
worn like  —  naturally.  I  expect  you  often  think  the 
same  of  me." 

"Never.  You  don't  change.  But  me  —  I've 
marked  it  when  shaving  many  a  time  —  the  outward 


THE   SILENT    PLACES  379 

sign  of  the  inward  —  God  knows  what.  Oh,  Ilet,  it's 
bad,  it's  bad  to  feel  yourself  growing  older  and  not  for- 
warder. I  don't  mean  only  in  worldly  things,  but  inner 
things.     I've  stuck  every  way." 

"  Don't  say  it.  'Tis  far  from  true.  You've  had  a 
cruel  deal  to  try  you  of  late  years  —  more'n  your  share  ; 
an'  you've  come  through  as  few  men  would  have. 
You've  never  been  shook  by  it ;  you've  always  risen 
up  to  your  true  self  after " 

"  After  falling  below  it,  and  snarling  and  snapping, 
and  losing  my  temper,  and  talking  a  world  of  wicked 
trash.  No,  I'm  not  the  same  man  I  was  ten  years 
agone.  I  wish  I  was.  I  was  larger-minded,  gentler, 
less  selfish  then.  And  hopefuller.  Life's  the  bane  of 
hope.  And  'tis  an  awful  thing,  Ilet,  to  get  less  patient 
as  you  grow  older,  instead  of  more  patient.  'Tis  contrary 
even  to  nature  and  the  way  of  the  poor  dumb  beasts. 
There's  some  dreadful  cause  when  that  happens  to  a 
man.  It's  happened  to  me  though ;  and  all  the  work 
of  one  evil,  plotting  woman.  I  used  to  say  that  nought 
could  hurt  a  man  from  outside  ;  I  used  to  think  nought 
could  rob  me  of  what  matters,  or  take  my  self-control 
away.  I'm  wiser  now.  'Tis  the  life-long  battle  that's 
making  me  old.  'Tis  fighting  that  damned  she,  and 
knowing  I'll  have  to  fight  her  till  one  of  us  goes  under." 

"  Don't  dream  such  things,  dear  Dodd." 

"  I  wish  it  was  a  dream.  I  laughed  at  it  when  first 
I  found  it  out  —  ages  back,  after  she  beat  my  horse 
and  took  that  cup.  I  saw  it  then,  but  I  never  thought 
'twas  more  than  a  flash  of  sheet  lightning.  'Tis  very 
different  now.  It  frets  and  tears  and  burrows  now. 
It  makes  me  terrible  hard  to  other  people,  where  once 
I'd  have  been  soft ;  it  poisons  my  trust  in  man.  When 
I  was  young,  nothing  ever  angered  me,  but  the  sight 
of  my  own  sins  when  I  knelt  afore  God.  I  had  a 
large  gift  of  making   allowance   for   other   folk  then. 


38o  THE    PORTREEVE 

But  now — I've  grown  so  touchy  as  a  rat  in  a  trap. 
I  feel  it  myself;  I  think  every  man  I  meet  is  trying  to 
best  me,  I  see  more  than  honesty  in  the  plainest 
bargain.  The  world's  wearing  out  my  staying  power, 
I  let  —  at  least  not  the  world,  but  her." 

"  Never !  To  feel  these  things  is  halfway  to  cur- 
ing 'em.  But  you  make  too  much  of  it,  Dodd.  You 
are  yourself  for  all  you  say  —  not  another  person. 
We've  been  under  the  weather  of  late  —  a  bit  of  a 
shadow  like." 

"  Who  throwed  the  shadow  ?  Look  at  all  the  clever- 
ness of  it.  Nothing  to  lay  hold  of —  nothing  to  hold 
up  to  the  shame  of  other  people.  She's  wove  all  this  — 
all ;  and  she'll  go  on  doing  it,  unless  we  cut  the  power 
to  do  worse.  It's  not  the  actual  things  she've  done 
against  us,  but  the  power  of  the  things  to  work  on 
and  on  —  like  poison  in  water.  I  leap  to  anger,  now, 
same  as  another  man  leaps  to  drink.  The  prick  that 
used  to  heal  in  a  moment,  festers  now.  I'm  not  the 
man  I  was,  Ilet." 

"  But  you  shall  be.  You  can  get  back  to  it  easy 
enough  —  by  the  old  way  that  you've  trod  so  steady. 
You  taught  me  to  feel  it  and  make  it  the  first  thing  in 
my  life,  Dodd.  And  be  you,  who  made  a  Christian 
of  me,  going  to  be  less  yourself?  Well  I  know  you're 
not !  You  said  we  should  have  a  talk,  and  so  we  have 
done ;  but,  if  you'd  thought  a  minute,  you'd  have 
remembered  'twasn't  for  us  to  talk,  but  listen." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  It's  very  right  and 
proper.  Yet  sometimes  our  ears  strain  for  the  Voice 
so  long,  that  they  get  weary  of  waiting." 

"  'Tis  two  Sundays  since  you  went  to  church." 

"  More  shame  to  me.  But  only  once  since  I  missed 
out  of  wrong-doing.  I  ought  to  have  gone,  but  some- 
how I  felt  I  couldn't.  I  went  'pon  the  Moor,  and  sat 
and  listened  for  the  small  voice,  Ilet ;  an'  it  didn't  speak." 


THE    SILENT    PLACES  381 

"  'Twas  a  sorrow  to  me  and  a  surprise  to  many  that 
you  kept  away." 

"  I'll  not  miss  again.  All  you  say  is  true.  How 
do  we  dare  to  plan  and  plot  and  say  we'll  do  this  and 
that?  Listening  is  what  we've  got  to  do  —  listening 
on  our  knees.  You've  taught  me  right  and  lifted  me 
up,  as  you  always  do." 

"And  I'll  ax  God  with  all  my  might  too,  dear  Dodd. 
After  all,  'tis  such  an  easy  thing  to  trust  Him." 

"  It  always  have  been  till  late  days." 

"  And  always  must  be.  Don't  let  nought  come  be- 
tween you  and  prayer,  dear  Dodd.  That's  the  identi- 
cal word  you've  often  said  to  me.  The  power  of  it  is 
above  any  human  cleverness.  Us  won't  plot ;  us  will 
pray,  an'  let  God  A'mighty  plot  for  us  —  shall  we, 
Dodd?" 

He  took  her  hands,  very  purple  with  the  berries, 
and  pressed  them  tightly. 

"  What  a  wife  !  "  he  said.  "  And  I  grumble,  and 
doubt,  and  take  thought,  and  don't  see  that  here,  along- 
side me,  part  of  myself,  is  a  better,  blesseder  thing 
than  any  the  world  can  give  or  rob  me  of." 

"  We've  got  ourselves,  Dodd.  We've  got  each 
other.     Even  she  can't  alter  that." 

"  By  God  !  but  she  nearly  did  !  If  she  had  —  if — 
'twould  have  been  her  life  for  yours,  as  sure  as  the 
sun's  gone  down.      I'd  not  have  let  her  live  after." 

"Don't  —  don't  say  such  madness!  We've  got 
such  a  deal  to  be  thankful  for,  and  such  a  God  to 
trust." 

He  rose  and  packed  his  tools. 

"  We  came  up  here  to  good  purpose,"  he  said.  "  No, 
no  !  I  can  carry  the  case,  and  your  basket  too.  Good 
things  have  happened  to  me  to-day  —  thanks  to  you. 
I've  missed  the  most  precious  balm  of  all,  while  my 
mind  roamed,  like  a  fool's  mind,  and  I  cast  about  for 


382  THE    PORTREEVE 

an  answer.  There's  only  One  can  answer.  I'll  ask 
Him,  Ilet ;  and  I'll  beg  Him  humble  to  forgive  me 
for  not  asking  Him  before.  'Tis  like  the  sight  of 
water  to  the  thirsty  to  remember.  But  how  low  I've 
sunk  to  have  lost  sight  of  this  for  a  moment.  'Tis  a 
great  blessing  for  you  to  have  said  these  things  to  me. 
You'll  get  your  reward  some  day,  Ilet." 

"  My  reward's  here  this  minute  —  in  your  dear  face," 
she  said. 

Her  heart  was  actually  happy,  and  his  full  of  new 
peace  as  they  went  down  together. 


CHAPTER   XII 


FLIGHT    OF    TIME 


AVERY  real  awakening  followed  upon  Wolf- 
erstan's  Dartmoor  day.  Faith  warmed  him ; 
patience  touched  his  heart ;  the  speech  of  Ilet 
fortified  him  greatly  and  made  him  look  back  with 
astonishment  at  his  own  recent  lapses  of  temper  and 
of  trust  in  his  superhuman  guides. 

Religion,  neglected  a  little  of  late,  refreshed  him 
more  than  ever,  and  he  became  very  zealous  in  public 
observance  and  private  prayer.  He  blessed  his  wife 
for  these  things ;  pursued  the  right  strongly ;  and 
waited  and  watched  to  see  Heaven  do  its  part. 

But  his  nerve  was  not  as  of  old.  He  approached 
the  threshold  of  middle  age,  and  the  patience,  that  be- 
longed intrinsically  to  his  first  manhood,  now  became 
a  virtue  only  achieved  with  effort.  Months  would 
pass  without  any  display  of  weakness  ;  then  circum- 
stances and  anxieties  combined  to  fret  him  into  explo- 
sion, and  the  ebullition  was  only  less  dreadful  to  his 
little  household  than  the  depression  and  misery  that 
followed  upon  it. 

Three  months  passed  by  and  winter  held  the  land 
again. 

Then  tribulation  of  a  minor  sort  made  Dodd  lose 
his  temper.  In  this  state  he  climbed  from  Okehamp- 
ton  to  his  home  and  found  little  Henny  at  mischief  in 
the  garden  ;  whereupon  his  irritation  gained  vent ;  he 
beat  the  child  sharply  and  she  ran,  screaming  with  pain 

3^3 


384  THE    PORTREEVE 

and  fright,  to  her  grandmother.  Ilet  was  out,  and  the 
old  woman  chid  the  man  from  her  heart. 

"  I  do  hate  an  uneven  soul,"  she  said.  "  Be  harsh 
or  easy ;  be  short  or  smooth  ;  but,  for  God's  love, 
Dodd  Wolferstan,  don't  blow  hot  to-day  an'  cold  to- 
morrow, like  you  be  taking  to  now.  Us  never  can  wager 
whether  you'll  wear  a  smile  or  a  frown  when  you  get 
home  to  dinner.  You  let  the  ups  an'  downs  all  come 
out  so  cruel,  till  we  feel  like  a  lot  o'  dogs  with  a -bad 
master,  an'  can't  be  easy  till  we  know  your  frame  of 
mind.  You'm  never  the  same  a  week.  Look  at  that 
poor,  frightened  maid.  You've  seed  her  messing  about 
in  the  garden  a  hundred  times  and  said  nought,  or 
perhaps  laughed  at  her  and  joined  the  fun  ;  then — just 
because  you'm  niffed  about  something  —  you  lift  your 
hand  to  her  to  let  out  your  bile.  Ban't  Christian,  and 
very  well  you  know  it." 

"  I  won't  have  the  place  like  a  pigsty  ;  and  I  won't 
have  the  fowls  running  in  the  front  garden.  I've  said 
it  till  I'm  tired  of  saying  it." 

"  Then  mend  the  wire  fence  and  save  your  wind. 
That's  your  work — not  ours.  You'm  unreasonable 
to  blame  us  for  what  we  can't  help." 

He  growled  and  went  up  to  his  room  ;  but  before 
little  Henny's  eyes  were  dry,  he  had  returned  and 
taken  her  on  his  lap  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  was  wrong,"  he  said  ;  "  I  mostly  am  wrong  now- 
a-days.  Forgive  me,  baby,  an'  I'll  get  a  new  trumpet 
for  you  this  very  minute." 

Henny  forgave  him  and  her  grandmother  smiled. 

"  There  you  are  !  You'd  trapse  down  in  the  town 
again  an'  wear  yourself  out  —  for  nought  but  to  make 
peace  with  your  own  silly  heart.  You  mend  that  fence, 
afore  dinner.  That's  good  sense,  that  is.  Plenty  of 
time  for  a  toy  next  time  business  takes  you  down- 
hill." 


FLIGHT    OF   TIME  385 

"  I've  promised,"  answered  Wolferstan,  and  he  rose 
and  walked  down  to  the  shops. 

I  let  returned  before  he  did  and  heard  the  story. 

*'  'Tis  things  like  that  that  hurt,"  she  said.  "  'Tisn't 
the  temper  one  minds  so  much  as  —  as  the  feebleness, 
if  you  understand  me.  Strong  men  often  rage,  like 
the  sky  thunders,  and  the  air's  cleared  by  it ;  but  our 
dear  man  —  what  was  the  sense  of  whipping  babby  an' 
then' going  off  to  get  a  toy  for  her?  'Tis  the  feeble- 
ness.    He'd  not  have  done  one  nor  t'other  a  few  year 

ago." 

"  If  us  could  stiffen  him  a  bit,  'twould  be  a  very  good 
thing,  I  grant  you,"  said  the  old  woman.  "  Not  but 
what  he  can  be  hard  enough  when  he  pleases.  He 
ban't  a  tyrant,  like  some  I've  known  —  a  brute  at  home 
and  mild  as  Moses  outside;  but  there  'tis;  he  sets  up 
his  back  at  the  wrong  time  and  for  nought." 

Dodd's  wife  assented,  and  within  a  fortnight  of  that 
event  another  aspect  of  the  man's  character  appeared, 
for  he  met  with  real  ill  fortune  and  bore  it  in  a  spirit 
of  patient  bravery  that  made  I  let's  heart  beat  with 
pride.  His  cattle  were  now  off  the  Moor,  and  some 
ten  valuable,  pedigree  heifers  he  kept  near  him.  The 
rest  were  sent  down  into  the  low  lands  until  spring 
should  come ;  but  this  young  cattle  he  stalled  near  his 
house  in  a  long,  tar-pitched  byre  snugly  situated  at  a 
hollow  of  the  hill  half  a  mile  from  his  house.  On  a 
night  when  Dodd  was  from  home,  this  place  caught 
fire,  and  not  a  beast  escaped.  The  deed  was  deliber- 
ately done,  and  the  incendiary  gave  himself  up  three 
days  afterwards.  He  was  a  carpenter,  out  of  work,  to 
whom  Ilet  had  refused  food.  It  transpired  that  in  the 
past  this  rogue  had  worked  for  Wolferstan,  and,  indeed, 
helped  to  build  the  byre  when  first  he  came  to  Oke- 
hampton.  Drunk  and  in  a  rage,  he  destroyed  the 
place  and  the   cattle ;  then,  a  week   afterwards,    con- 

2C 


386  THE    PORTREEVE 

fessed,  and  presently  got  five  years'  penal  servitude  for 
the  crime. 

This  most  serious  reverse,  instead  of  casting  down 
the  man,  found  him  at  his  best.  He  explained  his 
attitude  to  Ilet. 

"  For  a  minute  I  was  struck  down  when  I  heard 
it,"  he  said.  "  I  felt  like  Job,  and  the  Devil  was  at 
my  elbow,  if  ever  he  stood  there,  and  urged  me  to 
curse  God.  But  that  was  only  the  horror  of  feeling 
she'd  struck  again.  Yes,  at  first  I  firmly  believed  that 
she  was  behind  this,  and  had  worked  me  evil  ^by 
another  hand.  Then,  when  I  found  'twasn't  her,  I 
felt  a  load  off  me.  Even  the  terrible  loss,  and  the 
anxious  time  ahead,  look  small  compared  to  what  they 
would  have  looked.  I  could  face  life  with  a  light  heart 
almost — I  could  even  begin  again,  I  do  think,  if  that 
woman  changed  —  or  died " 

"  Let  it  go  out  of  your  mind.  She've  done  her 
worst.     She  can't  shake  you  from  God." 

"No  —  that's  beyond  human  power,  Ilet.  In  my 
sober  moments  I  know  how  deep  the  roots  lie.  The 
storm  strains  them  —  more  shame  to  me — but  they'll 
hold ;  never  doubt  that.  This  evil's  sent  for  His 
purposes.  I  feel  the  whip  —  I  turn  the  other  cheek  to 
the  Everlasting  Smiter.  What  comes  from  Him  is 
right." 

But  the  death  of  his  stock  altered  Wolferstan's  hopes 
for  the  coming  year.  It  grew  necessary  to  retrench, 
and  his  first  thought  was  to  sell  his  best  horse  whereon 
he  hunted.  Ilet  held  out  against  this,  and,  since  she 
begged  so  earnestly,  he  kept  it  for  the  season. 

She  was  thankful  to  see  him  ride  out  on  a  hunting 
morning ;  but  she  did  not  know  that  upon  these 
occasions  he  seldom  went  to  meet.  Instead,  he  took 
his  own  course  over  the  winter  loneliness  of  the  Moor, 
passed  through  the  empty  antres  of  the  land,  roamed 


FLIGHT   OF   TIM P:  387 

far  beyond  reach  of  man  and  his  dwelling-places. 
These  hidden  hours  served  their  purpose,  fortified  his 
soul,  and  turned  him  to  a  better  spirit  than  any  occasions 
of  sport. 

He  kept  more  aloof  from  his  kind  than  of  old  ;  his 
acquaintance  marked  it,  and  set  different  interpretations 
upon  it.  Some  held  that  he  was  growing  proud; 
others,  better  informed,  declared  that  the  man  ap- 
proached a  crisis  of  his  fortunes  and  might,  ere  long, 
be  seen  on  a  valuable  horse  no  more.  Once  Wolferstan 
overheard  some  remarks  of  this  sort  where  sportsmen 
waited  while  hounds  drew  cover,  and  the  hint  and 
whistle  that  went  with  it,  poisoned  his  day.  He  be- 
came suspicious,  self-conscious,  quick  to  fancy  himself 
the  subject  of  discourse.  If  two  men  met  near  him 
and  lifted  their  voices  in  laughter,  he  grew  uneasy. 
His  judgment  lost  a  little  of  its  charity,  and,  while  in- 
creasing knowledge  of  the  world  poured  in  from  with- 
out, the  personal  factor  of  unrest  made  it  impossible 
for  his  mind  to  digest  this  food  of  experience,  or  profit 
by  it.  He  found  himself  thinking  evil,  and  the  dis- 
covery brought  grief  and  contrition  to  him.  He 
started  the  inner  life  again  in  a  larger  spirit,  struggled  to 
take  charitable  views  of  all  men,  to  seek  motives  before 
censuring  actions,  to  thrust  the  snake  of  suspicion  from 
his  mind.  A  period  of  peace  returned  to  him  and 
life  looked  a  little  brighter. 

On  an  occasion  of  hunting  he  met  with  Slanning, 
and  since  Primrose  was  not  out,  the  miller  manoeuvred 
to  get  alongside  Wolferstan  and  fall  into  conversation. 
He  meant  no  unfriendliness,  but  was  as  usual  maladroit 
in  his  choice  of  words. 

"  Damned  sorry  about  those  young  things,"  said 
Orlando.  "It's  horrid  to  think  how  they  suffered  — 
fried  to  death  in  that  byre.  We  oughtn't  to  use  so 
much  wood  in  our  byres.     They're  regular  death-traps." 


388  THE    PORTREEVE 


C( 


Stone  ones  cost  a  bit  of  money,"  said  Dodd.  "  All 
the  same,  you're  right." 

"  Somebody  told  me  that  two  dozen  were  burnt,  and 
all  pedigree  stuff." 

"  Twenty-one  was  the  number." 

"  What  a  born  devil  that  man  must  have  been  !  And 
just  because  you  wouldn't  give  him  a  drink  of  cider  — 
eh  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  You've  got  the  story  wrong,  like 
everybody  else,  out  of  the  newspaper.  He'd  worked 
for  me  before  he  went  to  the  bad.  He  came  begging, 
as  he  had  done  for  about  six  weeks,  and  I'd  told  my 
wife  she  wasn't  to  give  him  another  crust.  He  was 
drunk  and  cursed  her.  Presently  he  cleared  off,  and 
she  saw  no  more  of  him.  Then  he  burnt  my  place 
down  and,  three  days  after,  went  to  one  of  those  revival 
meetings  and  confessed." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  have  any  luck  with  your  cattle." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  that  won't  break  your  heart." 

"  No  —  it's  nothing  to  me  personally ;  but  I'm 
merely  a  little  surprised,  because,  when  you  were 
younger,  old  Horn,  my  father-in-law,  always  thought 
you  were  going  to  be  a  big  man  some  day." 

Wolferstan  laughed. 

"  What  does  he  call  a  big  man,  I  wonder  ?  A  man 
that  never  forgets  and  never  forgives  ?  A  man  that 
goes  his  way,  like  a  steam-roller,  and  has  no  heart  or 
charity  for  other  people  ?  Is  that  what  he  admires  ? 
I  suppose  it  must  be,  since  that's  the  man  he  is  him- 
self" 

Slanning  flushed.  "  What's  changed  you  so  much  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  I'm  not  changed.  'Tis  others  that  change.  I  go 
my  way.  'Tis  Alexander  Horn  that  changed  and  cold- 
shouldered  me  at  the  critical  stage  of  my  career." 

"  For  pretty  good  reasons.     However,  that's  delicate 


FLIGHT    OF   TIME  389 

ground.     We've  both  got  memories.     You    oughtn't 
to  have  bought  those  things  at  Marhamchurch." 

"  I  know  it.  Didn't  1  regret  it,  and  write  humbly 
to  the  man,  and  offer  to  give  them  up  at  the  figure  of 
your  last  bid?  Didn't  I  say  in  my  letter  that  I'd  lost 
my  temper  and  was  sorry  for  it  ?  Who  on  God's  earth 
could  do  more  ?     And  he  never  answered  the  letter." 

"  I  know  —  I  was  sorry  he  didn't  meet  you  —  really." 

"  You  !  Forgive  my  saying  it,  but,  between  father 
and  daughter,  you're  rather  like  a  feather  in  a  gale  of 
wind.  I  don't  blame  you  for  your  part.  You've  only 
done  what  you  were  told  —  and  will  again,  I  dare  say. 
But " 

"  Stop  that !  You're  an  impossible  man,  Wolfer- 
stan,  and  you're  a  fool  too  —  which  you  weren't  once. 
Why,  even  I  —  but  there,  it's  no  good  talking  to  you. 
Life  teaches  you  nothing  apparently.  To  say  such 
things  to  me,  after  what  I've  done  for  you.  But  you 
weren't  worth  it  —  such  a  churl  —  and  I'm  sorry  I  ever 
cared  a  damn  about  you.  Horn  was  right ;  you're  no 
good." 

This  attack,  the  result  of  his  own  speech,  did  not 
trouble  Wolferstan.  He  was  angry  himself — being 
turned  to  anger  by  his  own  thoughts  —  and  now  he  felt 
glad  to  see  the  other  grow  hot.  He  did  not  desire 
Orlando's  friendship  and  he  did  not  much  believe  in  it. 
Having  once  entertained  a  contempt  for  the  man,  he 
found  it  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  take  him  seri- 
ously. He  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  say  things 
which  might  go  back  to  his  old  master's  ear,  and,  having 
said  them,  he  turned  his  back  on  Slanning  without 
answering  the  latter's  assault.  He  was  conscious  that 
he  had  now  broken  with  the  miller  for  ever,  and  did 
not  consider  that  for  this  flamboyant  and  conceited 
soul,  life  had  also  brought  its  lessons  and  chastening 
influences. 


39©  THE    PORTREEVE 

With  advance  of  spring  and  necessity  for  large  pay- 
ments, Dodd  found  that  he  had  to  call  on  capital,  and 
it  was  then,  when  he  grew  anxious,  that  Ilet  worked 
her  way  and  he  reluctantly  consented  to  let  a  part  of 
his  house  for  lodgings.  He  had  long  withstood  her 
reasonable  petition  in  this  matter,  but  now  yielded. 
There  was  no  difficulty,  for  with  the  opening  of  the 
artillery  camp  above  them,  and  the  visits  of  successive 
batteries  from  all  parts  of  England,  demand  for  accom- 
modation began  and  lasted  until  the  end  of  the  practice 
in  September. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  soldiers,  sometimes  alone 
and  sometimes  with  their  wives  and  families,  occupied 
the  two  front  apartments  and  certain  bedrooms  in  Dodd 
Wolferstan's  house.  He  chafed  under  it,  and  the 
glimpse  of  a  social  order  other  than  his  own  first  in- 
terested him,  finally  annoyed  him.  The  soldiers  were 
usually  gentlemen,  and  some  took  interest  in  their  land- 
lord and  his  pursuits  ;  but  the  gap  between  them  de- 
pressed Dodd,  and  the  possibility  of  ever  crossing  it 
seemed  remote.  Ambition  had  starved  while  anxiety 
was  afoot ;  now,  in  the  atmosphere  of  these  men,  it  re- 
vived a  little.  He  surveyed  the  past  years  and  found 
that  he  had  made  no  progress  of  that  sort.  Therefore 
he  affected  a  new  outlook  and  pretended  to  despise  the 
thing  he  envied.  Once  he  was  off-hand  and  familiar 
with  some  of  his  younger  lodgers,  and,  as  a  result,  they 
ignored  him  during  the  remainder  of  their  sojourn ; 
once  he  returned  into  the  wiser  way  of  his  youth,  and 
made  a  friend  by  so  doing. 

A  soldier  bought  his  horse  from  him  for  fifty  pounds, 
and  the  fact  saddened  Ilet  not  a  little,  for  she  knew 
that  he  would  hunt  no  more.  But  he  promised  to 
take  pleasure  and  recreation  in  other  ways. 

"  Hunting  was  never  the  same  after  that  awful  bad 
time   in    the    past,"    he   said,  when   she    regretted    his 


FLIGHT   OF   TIME  391 

action.  "  Somehow  I  always  live  again  in  that  day 
and  through  that  cursed  home-coming  to  you,  when  I 
see  hounds.  And  it  wakes  the  devil  in  me  too.  I'm 
better  out  of  it." 

He  hunted  no  more,  and  when  he  had  sold  the  stock 
that  he  had  raised,  he  found  himself  not  justified  in 
purchasing  again.  For  a  time  he  stood  irresolute  and 
revolved  many  schemes  of  action.  He  was  solvent 
with  money  saved  ;  but  now  he  doubted  much  how 
best  for  the  future  to  apply  time,  energy  and  know- 
ledge. Many  courses  presented  themselves,  and 
decision  was  difficult. 

At  this  stage  fell  Wolferstan's  fortieth  birthday,  and 
a  few  friends  came  to  supper  that  they  might  celebrate  it. 

Some  bore  little  gifts  with  them.  Ilet  gave  him 
a  woollen  waistcoat  of  her  own  knitting,  Mrs.  Pierce 
produced  a  new  prayer-book,  and  Dicky  Barkell,  a 
new  knife.  Abner  also  brought  a  gift.  It  was  a  vol- 
ume of  sermons  that  he  had  possessed  for  fifty  years. 

John  and  Thomas  Ball  joined  the  party,  but  carried 
no  presents.  After  supper  all  talked  of  the  future  and 
advanced  ideas.     Only  the  younger  Barkell  said  little. 

Dodd,  despite  the  joyful  occasion,  was  moody  and 
preoccupied.  He  fretted  under  their  friendly  advice ; 
he  had  not  asked  for  it  or  sought  it ;  but  Abner  Barkell 
and  Johnny  Ball  teemed  with  ideas.  The  ancient's 
were  sensible;  the  younger  man's  were  based  on  piety 
and  high  aspirations.  He  was  full  of  earnest  and 
devout  opinions ;  and  he  looked  at  life  in  a  spirit 
of  trustfulness  and  hope.  Dodd  chafed  at  the  round- 
eyed  youth's  somewhat  unctuous  sentiments,  and 
turned  impatiently  from  him.  He  desired  to  hear 
Dicky ;  but  Dicky  was  entirely  occupied  with  his 
pipe. 

At  last  Wolferstan  found  the  tension  more  than  he 
could  bear  and  rose  from  his  place. 


392  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  I'll  ax  you  to  come  out  with  me  in  the  yard  a 
minute,  Richard,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to  speak  a  private 
word  to  you,  if  you  please." 

The  signalman  nodded,  and  they  went  out  together. 
Then  Dicky  sat  on  a  granite  trough  in  the  moonlight 
and  the  other  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  him  and 
detailed  his  griefs. 

"  You  was  the  only  one  that  could  keep  your  mouth 
shut,  and  I  thank  you  for  it,"  he  began. 

"  'Twas  better  fun  listening  than  talking.  My  old 
man's  twittering  do  always  amuse  me :  he's  got  such  a 
lot  of  sense.  As  for  that  psalm-smiting  house-painter 
—  you  used  to  talk  like  that  once.      But  you  don't 


now," 


"  The  world's  a  hard  place." 

"  So  'tis  —  if  you  try  to  do  man's  work  in  it." 

"  I  shall  be  the  wrong  side  of  forty  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  nothing  done." 

"  You  know  best  about  what's  done.  I  should  have 
thought  there  was  too  much  done  for  your  peace  of 
mind.  As  to  being  wrong  side  of  forty,  as  a  Christian 
you  oughtn't  to  say  so.  'Tis  for  chaps  like  me,  who 
don't  believe  in  anything  after,  and  don't  want  to  — 
'tis  for  us  to  talk  about  the  wrong  side  o'  forty  —  not 
you.  With  your  eternal  home  coming  nearer  every 
hour,  you'm  on  the  right  side  of  forty  surely  ?  But 
you'm  like  the  rest.  'Tis  all  a  pretence,  and  whenever 
you  speak  from  the  heart,  out  comes  truth." 

"  'Tis  only  a  figure  of  speech.  I  ban't  feard  of  death 
and  shan't  mind  how  soon  it  comes.  My  life's  run 
into  a  very  different  pattern  to  what  I  planned,  Dick. 
You've  always  got  a  dose  of  lemon  for  every  complaint, 
but  you  can't  say  no  bitterer  thing  to  me  than  what  I 
say  to  myself      I'm  forty ;  and  I've  failed." 

"  You  know  best." 

"  Failed  through  no  fault  of  mine  —  let  the  Lord 


FLIGHT   OF  TIME  393 

witness  to  that.  She's  ruined  me,  Dick — I  can  see  it 
clearer  every  day.  I  wouldn't  say  it  to  any  living  soul 
but  you.  But  'tis  the  truth.  We  see  so  clear  looking 
back.     She's  done  for  me." 

"  Trash  !  "  answered  the  other  drily.  "  If  you're 
ruined  —  and  I  won't  believe  that  —  'twasn't  Primrose 
Slanning  done  it.  That's  the  old,  cowardly  whine  of 
Adam  and  all  his  knock-kneed  sort.  No  woman  ever 
ruined  a  man  unless  the  man  had  a  weak  spot  for  her 
poison  to  come  in  at.  Men  ruin  themselves  —  women 
can't  ruin  'em.  Men  ruin  themselves  by  letting  lust 
run  away  with  'em  ;  men  ruin  themselves  by  believing 
lies ;  by  trusting ;  by  being  weak ;  by  bad  qualities ; 
by  good  qualities  ;  by  a  thousand  different  ways ;  but 
the  ruination  comes  from  inside  'em.  Every  man's 
got  a  ruined  corner  to  him  somewhere  —  you  and  me 
and  all.  The  dose  you've  had  wasn't  mixed  by  any 
hand  but  your  own,  Dodd  Wolferstan.  Think  deep 
enough  and  you'll  know  it." 

"  That's  not  true." 

"  Your  own  act  made  her  an  everlasting  enemy,  as  I 
knew  it  would.  From  the  day  you  escaped  marrying 
her,  she  was  your  foe.  'Twas  only  a  question  then 
which  would  be  strongest.  If  you're  ruined,  'tis  be- 
cause you  was  weaker  than  her ;  and  that's  only  to 
say  again  your  own  weakness  ruined  you.  She's  had 
fine  sport  with  you  —  from  her  point  of  view." 

"  You  argue  without  God,  as  usual." 

"Where  does  He  come  in  ?  Show  me  His  hand  in 
the  job,  and  I'll  go  on  my  knees  in  this  mud.  I  say 
that  the  worst  woman  as  ever  walked  is  powerless  to 
ruin  a  man,  unless  his  nature's  the  right  soil  for  her 
seed  to  grow  in.  If  there's  no  starting-place  for 
another  person's  evil  to  root  in  you,  it  won't  grow,  and 
there's  an  end  of  it." 

"  To  shake  a  man's  trust  in  God  —  think  of  that."  , 


394  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  And  what  Is  the  trust  worth  that  can  be  shaken  ? 
If  'twas  capable  of  being  shook,  'tis  certain  the  power 
to  shake  would  come  along  in  some  shape." 

"  Such  a  woman  is  stronger  than  the  Devil.  He 
would  never  have  shook  it.  You  would  never  have 
shook  it.  When  my  things  were  burnt,  I  sank  down 
—  down,  till  I  found  'twasn't  her  work.  Then  I  rose 
up  again,  because  I  said  '  'tis  God's  work  and  there- 
fore good.'  I  could  bear  that  stroke ;  yet,  when  I  see 
her  power  and  know  it  can  only  come  from  her 
Maker,  my  heart  sinks  about  my  God." 

Barkell  was  interested  at  this  confession. 

"  You're  built  so,"  he  answered.  "  You  can't  help 
it.  Along  with  your  mighty  faith,  there's  a  pinch  of 
doubt.  Like  all  your  sort,  you  keep  a  profit  and  loss 
account  with  God.  You  think  you  don't ;  but  you 
do.  I'm  just  the  other  way.  With  all  my  doubt, 
there's  a  pinch  of  faith  —  not  in  no  God,  but  in  the 
hopeful  outlook  of  man's  nature  and  the  closer  grasp 
he  gets  on  wisdom  and  knowledge  every  generation." 

"  Any  sort  of  hopefulness  is  good.  I  trusted  in 
man  too  —  once.     See  where  it's  taking  me." 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Dicky,  "  you  are  living  and 
feeling.  Your  nature  has  took  you  into  deep  water 
and,  sink  or  swim,  you've  had  a  splash  for  your  forty 
years.  You've  lived.  You've  done  man's  work. 
But  as  for  me,  I'm  a  worse  ruin  than  you,  for  all  my 
talk.  You've  been  knocked  about  with  shot  and  shell. 
That's  grand,  even  though  you  come  out  second  best. 
I'm  going  down  with  dry  rot.  I'm  a  coward  for  all 
my  magpie  chatter.  I'm  a  coward  —  sitting  there 
behind  my  points  —  doing  what  any  fool  could  do. 
My  life's  wasted.  But  it's  fulfilled  the  result  of  the 
ingredients.  'Twas  mixed  so.  I  shall  go  on  rusting 
out ;  you'll  go  on  wearing  out.    We  can't  change." 

"  And  what  will  that  woman  go  on  doing  ?  " 


FLIGHT   OF   TIME 


395 


*'  She'll  go  on  hunting  you  as  long  as  you  let  her, 
like  a  boy  hunts  a  squirrel,  or  a  man  a  hare,  till  it 
drops  or  escapes." 

"  I  can't   stand   no   more   of  it.      I  shall   hit  back." 

"You'll  do  what's  in  you  to  do.  You'll  be  your- 
self." 

"The  thing  is  to  know  my  next  step  —  speaking 
generally.  Sometimes  I'm  in  a  mind  to  go  right  away; 
sometimes  I  almost  resolve  to  face  her  and  have  it  out. 
Can't  say  that  I'm  doing  much  here  for  the  moment." 

"  To  face  her  would  be  a  very  interesting  deed. 
You  heard  about  Joe  Chastey,  the  Portreeve  ?  " 

"  Only  that  he'd  come  into  a  bit  of  money  when 
his  uncle  at  Launceston  died." 

"  Yes  ;  but  he's  going  to  take  over  the  business 
there,  instead  of  selling  it.  'Tis  a  corn  chandler's,  and 
he  understands  a  bit  about  it.     He  may  go." 

"  What's  that  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     How  would  you  like  to  go  back  ?  " 

"  Go  back  ten  years  and  be  Portreeve  again  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  The  first  step  to  going  forward  is 
often  going  back.  Better  men  than  you,  or  me,  have 
made  mistakes  that  took  ten  years  to  put  right." 

They  returned  to  the  house  and  found  others  study- 
ing the  same  proposition. 

Ilet  was  nervous  that  her  husband  would  be  angry 
at  the  suggestion  of  a  return  to  Bridgetstowe ;  but,  to 
her  surprise,  he  took  it  quietly  and  even  amiably.  To 
go  back  to  the  home  of  his  happiness  and  best  fortunes 
presented  a  picture  to  his  mind  that  was  not  unattrac- 
tive. 

After  their  friends  had  departed,  husband  and  wife 
discussed  the  question  at  great  length.  She  urged  the 
change,  being  driven  by  instinct  to  do  so.  He  listened 
to  her  arguments,  but  said  little  and  left  the  subject  open 
for  future  discussion. 


396  THE    PORTREEVE 

One  aspect  of  it  curiously  fascinated  him.  Instead 
of  disliking  the  idea  of  returning  into  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  Slannings'  home,  he  found  it 
attract  him.  It  chimed  with  his  shadowy  thoughts  of 
taking  the  offensive  and  striking  a  return  blow  for  the 
many  that  he  had  suffered. 


CHAPTER    XIII 


BACK    TO    BRIDGETSTOWE 


WOLFERSTAN  took  his  problem  to  his  God 
and  entered  upon  a  patient  and  amiable  phase 
of  spirit.  He  had  become  more  prayerful  of 
late,  and  made  renewed  endeavours  to  do  good  at  Oke- 
hampton.  But  it  hurt  him  not  a  little  to  find  that  he 
did  not  carry  quite  the  old  weight.  Even  at  the  work- 
ing man's  club,  which  he  had  been  instrumental  in 
establishing,  he  was  met  with  fewer  courtesies  and  found 
himself  upon  a  level  with  those  who  once  granted  and 
indicated  his  superiority.  Other  and  more  prosperous 
souls  controlled  affairs.  More  than  once  he  was  out- 
voted, and  he  observed  a  rational  element  grow  daily 
in  strength  among  the  members.  Prosperity  and  fail- 
ure alike  exude  a  subtle  aroma,  which  men  scent  by 
instinct.  Each  carries  an  atmosphere,  and  few  are  able 
to  conceal  the  approximate  truth  concerning  that  in 
which  they  move.  When  Wolferstan  was  the  matter 
on  men's  tongues,  it  began  to  be  felt  that  he  did  not 
get  on  ;  that  he  stood  in  a  way  to  falsify  predictions ; 
that  he  had  lost  a  part  of  his  old  winning  and  attractive 
manner.  An  edifice  of  false  rumours  arose  upon  foun- 
dations of  truth ;  some  for  their  own  purposes  decried 
him  to  advance  personal  ends  ;  some  declared  such 
allegations  false.  But  it  became  generally  understood 
that  he  might  return  to  Bridgetstowe ;  and  when  once 
the  possibility  arose,  the  certainty  was  accepted.  Many 
positively   asserted    that  Wolferstan    meant    to   leave 

397 


398  THE    PORTREEVE 

Okehampton,  long  before  he  had  decided  to  do  so. 
He  heard  it  as  a  commonplace  at  business  and  at  the 
club.  It  affected  him  not  a  little  to  observe  that  the 
event  was  alluded  to  with  indifference. 

"  If  I'd  been  going  to  Exeter  in  a  big  way,  every- 
body would  have  come  sneaking  up  to  say  they  were 
sorry ;  but  because  I  may  be  returning  to  Bridget- 
stowe  in  a  small  way,  not  a  man  cares  a  curse,"  he  said 
to  his  wife. 

"  'Tis  not  a  small  way,"  she  said.  "  You'll  be  all 
you  was,  and  more.  Can't  a  man  return  to  his  native 
place  if  it  pleases  him  ?  " 

"  They  don't  want  him  there  —  not  if  he  goes  back 
poorer  than  he  went  out." 

"  You  go  back  richer  —  every  way.  Richer  if  any- 
thing even  in  money  !  " 

Still  he  hesitated.  Then  a  day  came  when  he  sought 
the  desert  rather  than  the  market-place  and  spent  long 
hours  alone.  He  returned  so  late  that  I  let  had  begun 
to  grow  anxious  about  him.  He  was  ravenously 
hungry  and  ate  his  supper  before  he  spoke  a  word. 

Presently  his  wife  loosed  his  tongue. 

"  'Tis  so  curious  now,  dear  —  as  if  we  was  changing 
places  almost.  When  I  was  a  girl,  I  was  always  for 
Dartymoor,  and  liked  nought  better  than  trapsing  up- 
along  'mongst  the  gert  stones.  But  now  'tis  you  that 
goes  to  they  old,  lonesome  tors,  while  I  be  the  busy 
one  and  tramps  down  among  the  people." 

He  drank  his  beer,  sighed  the  comfortable  sigh  that 
follows  a  hearty  meal,  and  lighted  his  pipe.  Then  he 
answered  her  remark. 

"  Ban't  much  use  my  going  among  the  people  now. 
My  bolt's  shot.     Nobody  wants  me  no  more." 

Henny  Pierce  answered  him. 

"  Don't  you  tell  that  nonsense,  Dodd.  You  know 
a  lot  better.     Of  course  they  don't  want  you   now. 


BACK   TO    BRIDGETSTOWE  399 

Why  for  should  they?  Who  wants  a  man  who  don't 
know  how  to  make  up  his  mind  ?  While  you  loaf 
here  uncertain  'bout  your  plans,  who  should  want  'e  ? 
If  you  had  a  job  to-morrow  —  but  there,  what's  the 
good  of  talking  if  you   can't  make  up  your  mind?" 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind.      I'm  going." 

Ilet  jumped  up  and  kissed  him. 

"That's  great  news,  Dodd  —  great  news.  'Tis  for 
the  best,  for  certain.  You  know  how  strong  I've  felt 
for  it  ever  since  there  was  the  first  thought  of  it  in  the  air." 

"  I  went  along  of  Joe  Chastey  last  week,"  he  said, 
"and  we  had  a  tell  about  things.  He's  not  going  on 
with  that  business  to  Launceston,  but  he's  going  to 
sell  it  and  buy  another  business  in  the  same  line  at 
Tavistock.  'Twill  take  a  good  bit  of  time  to  fix  up  ; 
but  that's  so  much  the  better.  He'll  throw  over  Port- 
reeve in  a  year  or  so  ;  then,  if  they'll  have  me " 

"  *  Have  you  ! '  I  should  think  they  would  !  "  cried 
Ilet. 

"Of  course  —  never  was  such  a  well  thought  on 
Portreeve  as  you,"  declared  Mrs.   Pierce. 

"  So  there  it  stands.  I  go  out  of  this  in  the  spring. 
Now  'tis  for  us  to  look  round.  My  heart  wants  more 
beasts,  but  my  pocket  says  nursery  gardening  again, 
though  'twill  be  against  the  grain.  However,  I'm 
learning  to  bend  my  will  —  that's  harder  than  to  bend 
your  back.  God's  in  it  all.  If  I  didn't  trust  Him, 
I  should  go  mad." 

" 'Tis  a  very  proper  thought  —  so  us  all  should  — 
forwho  else  can  be  trusted ?  "asked old  Henny.  "  There, 
I'm  heartened  up  something  wonnerful,"  she  continued. 
"I  do  love  a  move  —  an'  I'll  be  nearer  my  graves  in 
Sourton  churchyard  —  that  is  if  you  be  going  to  take 
me  along  with  you." 

"Of  course,"  said  Ilet.  "You're  one  of  us,  ban't 
you  ?     Our  good's  yours." 


400 


THE    PORTREEVE 


"  How  will  the  little  one  be  able  to  go  on  with  her 
piano  lessons  to  Bridgetstowe  ? "  asked  Dodd,  sud- 
denly moved  to  a  small  issue ;  as  the  mind  will,  when 
confronted  with  a  great  one. 

"  Let's  drop  'em,"  said  the  mother.  "  They'll  never 
be  no  use  to " 

But  Henny's  step-father  interrupted  her  passion- 
ately. 

"  She  shall  not  drop  them  !  Damn  it,  are  we  going 
to  drop  everything  ?  'Tis  always  '  drop  this  '  and '  drop 
that.'     She  shall  go  on  learning." 

"Don't  get  so  hot,  my  dear  man.  Of  course  she 
shall,  if  you  like.  I  only  said  it  to  please  you.  An' 
seeing  we've  got  a  piano  an'  she's  so  clever  at  it,  —  of 
course " 

He  returned  into  good  humour  and  did  not  see  the 
older  woman's  horrified  eyes  shine,  like  little  moons, 
in  her  withered  face.  She  could  not  believe  her  ears, 
for  she  had  never  heard  Wolferstan  swear  until  that 
moment. 

The  excitement  of  the  coming  change  kept  them 
busy  and  occupied  them  through  the  winter.  A  meas- 
ure of  fair  fortune  overtook  Wolferstan,  and  the  best 
thing  that  happened  to  him  was  some  return  of  self- 
respect.  Bridgetstowe  people  expressed  themselves  as 
gratified  that  the  native  should  return  to  his  old  home. 
A  house,  of  a  size  somewhat  larger  and  position  more 
important  than  his  old  bachelor  dwelling,  was  forth- 
coming upon  the  road  to  Launceston.  The  rent 
seemed  likely  to  strain  his  resources,  but  he  decided 
for  it  on  the  strength  of  a  rich  and  secluded  garden. 
This  land  was  surrounded  by  old  cob  walls  against 
which  grew  the  better  sort  of  stone  fruit.  The  trees 
had  been  well  tended  and  were  in  a  prosperous  condition. 

Ilet,  unknown  to  Dodd,  did  much  to  increase  the 
warmth    of  his    future   welcome.      She  was  often    in 


BACK   TO    BRIDGETSTOWE  401 

Bridgetstowe  at  this  period,  and  made  many  friends. 
Incidentally  she  learnt  of  the  Slannings,  and  hearsay 
by  no  means  chimed  with  her  own  inner  knowledge 
concerning  her  husband's  enemy.  The  miller  and  his 
wife  were  both  very  popular  and  the  sympathy  ex- 
tended to  Ilet  was  bestowed  tenfold  upon  Primrose. 
For  Wolferstan's  wife  had  a  child,  though  not  by  him; 
Orlando  Slanning  was  childless  —  a  circumstance  that 
awoke  most  active  commiseration  in  the  minds  of  the 
matrons  of  Bridgetstowe.  Mrs.  Slanning  did  no  little 
practical  good  in  her  new  sphere.  She  was  said  to  be 
kind-hearted  and  known  to  be  generous.  She  figured 
at  philanthropic  entertainments,  took  stalls  at  bazaars, 
performed  her  part  in  the  country  community,  and 
went  regularly  to  church.  All  spoke  well  of  her ;  and 
thus  a  new  problem  faced  Ilet.  She  was  for  taking  it 
to  her  husband,  but,  instead,  kept  it  to  herself  How 
could  a  woman,  inspired  to  active  and  obstinate  malig- 
nity in  one  direction,  order  her  life  with  justice  and 
charity  in  every  other  ?  How  could  a  fellow-creature 
be  consistently  evil  to  Wolferstan  and  good  to  every- 
body else  ?  How  could  she  cruelly  plot  and  plan  to 
spoil  his  life  and  ruin  his  hopes,  even  to  the  least  of 
them,  yet  preserve,  in  every  other  relation  and  direc- 
tion, a  temperate,  tolerant,  kindly  attitude  ?  Was  it 
that  into  this  battle  she  poured  all  the  bitterness  of 
her  nature,  all  the  energy  and  determination  of  her 
character,  leaving  nothing  else  but  a  residuum  of 
amiable  indifferences  ?  Or  was  it  that  Wolferstan  had 
been  mistaken,  that  his  imagination  had  failed  to  digest 
facts,  and  so  induced  a  waking  nightmare  and  delusion 
under  which  he  still  laboured  ?  The  problem  rose 
beyond  her  power  to  solve.  She  knew  that  it  must 
presently  face  her  husband  also,  and  hoped  that  the 
esteem  in  which  the  Slannings  were  held  at  Bridget- 
stowe might  modify  his  fear  and  hatred  of  them. 

2D 


402  THE   PORTREEVE 

The  matter  soon  came  on  Dodd's  own  lips,  for  it 
happened  that  during  a  market  day  he  dined  at  '  The 
Royal  Oak,'  and  that  Orlando  Slanning  —  thrown  out 
hunting  —  rode  up  at  the  hour  of  the  mid-day  meal 
and  presently  partook  of  it  beside  Wolferstan. 

Not  without  irritation  Dodd  marked  the  esteem  in 
which  certain  small  farmers  and  tradesmen  round  them 
held  the  miller,  and  he  even  found  himself  treated 
more  respectfully,  because  Slanning  accosted  him. 

Orlando  bore  no  malice  and,  though  his  last  meet- 
ing with  Dodd  had  not  been  friendly,  he  spoke  now 
in  his  usual  loud  and  amiable  tones. 

"  So  you're  coming  back,  I  hear,  Wolferstan  .?  You 
might  do  worse.  Bridgetstowe's  not  a  bad  little  corner 
for  a  busy  man." 

"  Plenty  doing,  no  doubt,"  answered  Dodd  shortly. 

"  Rather !  I  know  the  place  you've  taken.  I  sup- 
pose you'll  go  in  for  gardening  again  ?  They  say  you 
rather  burnt  your  fingers  with  the  beasts." 

"  They  say  wrong  as  usual.  I  didn't  burn  my 
fingers ;  but  a  rascally  tramp  burnt  my  byre  and  many 
very  valuable  young  heifers  in  it." 

"Of  course.     I'd  quite  forgotten.     Cruel  bad  luck." 

"  It   was.     For    the   minute    I'm    going    gardening 
again.       But    I    hope    I    shall  soon    be  stock-raising. 
That's  what   I   want   to   do." 
Shall  you  hunt  ?  " 

Presently  I  hope  to  do  so.  I  got  a  good  offer 
for  my  big  horse  from  one  of  the  soldiers  at  the 
camp." 

"  One  of  your  lodgers  ?  " 

Slanning,  in  sober  honesty,  meant  no  offence.  It 
was  an  utterance  characteristic  of  his  stupidity  —  the 
bludgeon  of  a  fool  swung  in  pure  innocence.  Wolf- 
erstan had  no  right  whatever  to  take  offence  ;  but  he 
did  so. 


BACK    TO    BRIDGETSTOWE  403 

"  It  was  a  Major  Tomlinson  of  the  Royal  Artillery," 
he  answered  with  a  change  of  manner ;  then  rose  from 
the  table  and  prepared  to  leave  it. 

Slanning,   however,  had  something  else  to  mention. 

"  Don't  go,"  he  said.  "  Wait  a  minute  till  I've 
done  —  then   I'll   come  with  you." 

He  moderated  his  voice  and  spoke  again,  so  that 
the  other  only  could  hear. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  favour.  Nobody  knows  the 
idea  but  me,  and  you  needn't  say  I  asked  you.  In 
fact,  I'd  rather  you  didn't.  I'll  bolt  this  pudding  — 
then  we'll  go  into  the  smoking  room  and  talk." 

Soon  they  sat  with  their  feet  on  a  sanded  floor  and 
their  noses  in  the  reek  of  stale  tobacco. 

"It's  this,"  said  Slanning.  "I  want  you  to  judge 
the  ploughing  matches  here.  If  I  suggest  it,  the 
committee  will  write  you  a  formal  request,  and  it  won't 
do  you  any  harm,  but  be  a  good  advertisement  for  you." 

Again  innocently  he  blundered  and  did  not  guess 
that  in  the  wounds  of  Wolferstan  a  very  active  poison 
of  pride  now  festered. 

"  Why  d'you  ask  me  ? "  said  Dodd. 

"  Well  —  because  you  know  what  ploughing  means 
and  we  don't.  Failing  you,  there's  Farmer  Chave ; 
but  he'll  have  two  men  in  the  competition.  You'll  be 
unprejudiced." 

"  Once  a  ploughboy,  always  a  ploughboy ;  is  that 
what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Good  God,  no  !  But  you  were  the  best  man  who 
ever  drove  a  share  here  twenty  years  ago,  so  I'm  told, 
and  I  thought " 

"  I  know  what  you  thought  —  or  your  wife  thought 
—  to  belittle  me  to  my  face — to  insult  and  hurt  me 
at  my  first  coming  back  here.  'Tis  all  of  a  piece. 
But  you've  gone  to  the  end  of  the  tether.  I  warn  you 
to  do  no  more,  for  I'll  stand  no  more." 


404 


THE   PORTREEVE 


Slanning  stared  in  amazement.  A  maiden  who  had 
answered  the  bell  appeared  at  the  door,  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak. 

"Well,  I'm "  began  the  miller,  then  stopped. 

"  What  might    you    please  to  want,  sir,"  said    the 

"  Nothing,  Nelly,"  he  answered.  "  I  meant  to  order 
—  but  this  gentleman  won't  drink  with  me." 

Nelly  regarded  Dodd  curiously,  then  departed. 
Slanning  rose. 

"  I'm  sorry  that  everything  I  do  and  say  is  always 
turned  into  a  bad  meaning  by  you,  Wolferstan.  You 
won't  go  far  here,  or  anywhere,  if  you're  so  jolly  ready 
to  misunderstand  everybody  and  think  that  everybody 
wants  to  insult  you,  or  some  such  damned  nonsense. 
Anyway,  it's  a  pretty  feeble  style  to  begin  living  in  a 
new  place  —  to  quarrel  with  one  of  the  leading  men 
of  the  district.  You  had  some  name  for  sense  once  ; 
but  I  should  say  Okehampton  has  knocked  all  the 
sense  out  of  you." 

He  marched  from  the  room  and  left  Wolferstan  with 
a  stormy  heart.  Dodd  did  not  believe  in  the  worthi- 
ness of  Orlando's  motives  and  did  not  regret  his  own 
harsh  words. 

"  He'll  tell  them  to  her,"  he  said  when  detailing  the 
incident  to  Ilet.  "  He'll  tell  her  how  I  spoke,  and 
she'll  see  that  I  know  everything  and  am  not  deceived. 
So  much  the  better." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

CLOUDS 

AFTER  lengthy  inaction,  renewed  labour  sweetened 
the  heart  and  mind  of  Dodd  Wolferstan.  He 
set  to  work  upon  his  garden,  completed  various 
arrangements,  and  sold  such  cattle  as  he  still  possessed. 
Waves  of  bitterness  sometimes  swept  his  spirit  when 
he  reflected  upon  the  altitude  of  his  ambitions  and  the 
humble  aspect  of  reality  ;  but  Ilet  was  always  swift  to 
bring  common-sense  consolations,  and  her  own  restored 
peace  of  mind  went  far  to  support  him.  Not  always, 
however,  did  she  say  the  just  word.  Occasionally  her 
speeches,  uttered  with  artless  soul,  cut  both  ways,  and 
tortured. 

"  'Tis  only  so  many  years  of  learning  and  getting 
wiser,"  she  said  once.  "  I  do  love  to  think  you'll  be 
plain  Portreeve  again  —  as  you  was  when  first  I  met 
you." 

She  spoke  to  cheer  him  in  an  evil  hour  ;  but  her 
words  acted  contrariwise  and  cast  him  down. 

Before  the  arrival  of  spring  they  had  left  Okehamp- 
ton  and  were  settled  in  their  new  home.  The  move 
proved  expensive,  but  nothing  could  quell  Ilet's  san- 
guine heart  at  this  season  and  something  of  her  cheerful 
spirit  impressed  itself  upon  her  husband.  He  found 
it  well  to  be  among  the  familiar  scenes  again.  Every 
gate  and  meadow  was  a  friend,  and  the  hearty  greeting 
of  the  people  seemed  also  good  to  him.  Many  of 
whom  he   had  lost  note  during  recent  years  came  to 

40s 


4o6  THE    PORTREEVE 

see  the  man,  and  there  was  little  but  kindness  and 
pleasure  exhibited  at  his  return.  He  noted  the  pas- 
sage of  the  years,  marked  familiar  names  that  had 
dropped  out  and  new  ones  now  in  the  mouths  of  the 
folk.  He  did  not  grudge  the  older  men  their  weight 
in  local  matters,  but  a  throb  of  envy  woke  when  those 
he  had  known  as  lads  now  saluted  an  equal  in  him  and 
spoke  and  jested  without  ceremony.  Not  so  they 
talked  of  the  Slannings.  Orlando,  thanks  to  his  wife 
and  the  restraining  influences  of  increasing  age,  had 
won  a  real  reputation.  People  admitted  that  he 
entertained  a  cheerful  conceit  of  himself  and  did  not 
hide  from  his  left  hand  the  good  deeds  performed  by 
his  right ;  but  good  deeds  were  done,  and  the  miller's 
kindness  of  heart  outweighed  his  weakness  of  head. 
None  could  forget  his  virtues,  because  the  hamlet  was 
repeatedly  and  practically  reminded  of  them. 

Wolferstan  debated  long  as  to  his  future  attitude 
towards  Orlando  Slanning.  Ilet  herself  raised  the 
question  and  unconsciously  tickled  his  pride. 

"  As  Portreeve  you'll  be  a  leading  man  again,"  she 
said,  "  and  you're  bound  to  be  thrown  against  him  and 
other  uppermost  people  pretty  soon." 

He  admitted  it. 

"  I've  always  known  how  to  go  among  'em,  and 
always  shall,  I  suppose,"  he  answered.  "  As  to  him, 
the  case  is  different.  When  us  have  met  he's  never 
lost  the  opportunity  to  drop  gall,  and  I've  always  been 
pretty  quick  to  show  him  I  knew  what  he  was  playing 
at.  But  now  —  well,  for  my  part  I'll  let  bygones  be 
bygones  willingly  enough,  so  far  as  he's  concerned. 
He's  only  a  tool.  Time  will  soon  show  what  she 
means.  And  I  shall  act  according.  I  talked  a  good 
deal  of  silly  nonsense  last  year,  when  I  was  cut  up 
about  it  all ;  but  I  feel  my  feet  firmer  under  me  again 
now,  thank  God,  and  I  see  the  way  a  lot  clearer.     My 


CLOUDS  40y 

Christianity  seemed  to  go  to  sleep  for  a  bit.  'Twas 
a  very  dreadful  thing,  I  let,  and  a  terrible  black  mark 
against  a  man;  for  when  we  get  listless  in  religious 
matters,  'tis  our  own  fault  and  our  own  sin.  There 
was  a  screw  loose ;  but  now  'tis  tight  again  and  I  can 
look  the  world  in  the  face  and  say  I've  failed  by  the 
will  of  God  ;  and  that  now  I  be  going  to  try  and 
succeed  by  the  will  of  God." 

"  'Tis  like  your  greatness,  Dodd  ;  an',  pushed  home, 
that  means  'twas  the  will  of  God  these  things  befell 
you.  But  surely  God  wouldn't  use  dirty  tools  to  do 
His  cleaning  work  in  our  souls  ;  therefore  it  may  hap 
that  all  you've  thought  and  feared  touching  that  woman 
be  false.  Oh,  my  dear  man,  think  what  a  weight  off 
your  shoulders  if  you  could  say  *  I've  blamed  her  falsely. 
She's  innocent  of  evil ;  she's  what  other  people  think 
her,  not  what  I  think  her.  She's  only  come  into  my  ill 
luck  by  chance,  and  'tis  the  Devil  makes  me  hate  her!'" 

"If  I  could  do  that " 

"  You  could,  Dodd.  'Tis  just  a  thing  your  big  spirit 
and  Christian  thoughts  would  rise  to,  if  you  only  pray 
to  God  to  help  you." 

He  remained  silent  with  the  magnitude  of  the 
thought. 

"  There'd  be  a  large  Christianity  about  it,  sure 
enough,"  he  said.  "  A  Christianity  to  make  angels 
wonder." 

"  An'  'tis  within  your  power.  You  could  say  to- 
morrow that  you'd  read  the  events  in  your  life  wrongly 
and  mistook  them.  You  could  say  that,  looking  into 
your  own  self,  you  beginned  to  see  what  it  all  meant  — 
and  beginned  to  find  God's  hand  in  it,  not  another's." 

"All  the  same,  we  must  keep  common-sense,  Ilet. 
I  might  swear  this  minute  that  there's  no  more  malice 
left  in  me ;  but  high  thoughts  mustn't  sweep  us  into 
silliness.     What  you  ask — 'tis  beyond  reason." 


4o8  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  And  haven't  you  often  said  that  religion  is  beyond 
reason  and  above  it  ?  That  you  have.  You've  taught 
me  —  me  that  believed  little  enough  when  I  comed  to 
you  —  you've  taught  me  all  it  means  to  trust  God 
through  thick  and  thin.  Can't  you  take  back  a  little 
of  the  teaching  to  yourself  just  now  ?  " 

"  I'll  think  of  it;  I'll  see  if  my  mind  can  lift  to  it 
without  upsetting  my  reasoning  parts,  Ilet.  'Twould 
be  a  mighty  relief  and  comfort  if  I  could  say  from  my 
heart  '  That  woman's  not  responsible  for  the  past ' ; 
—  but  —  I'll  make  it  a  praying  matter." 

"  Then  'twill  come  right,"  she  said. 

"  Barkell's  with  you  there  in  one  sort  of  way,"  he 
added.  "Though  I've  little  patience  with  him.  I 
feel  there's  sense  in  his  scourge  sometimes.  He's 
sour  oftener  than  sweet,  but  so's  physic,  and  so's  life. 
That  man,  if  he  had  faith,  might  have  been  a  great 
power  for  good." 

"  He's  with  me  —  how?"  she  asked.  " Ban't  often 
Dicky  would  agree  with  me,  I  should  reckon."  . 

"  In  a  way  he  is,  for  he  says  that  a  man  brews  his 
own  drink  and  none  can  do  that  for  him.  When  I 
said,  in  a  weak  hour,  that  woman  had  ruined  me ;  he 
answered  'twas  no  such  thing,  but  that  I'd  ruined 
myself,  and  that  no  strength  or  craft  of  any  man  or 
woman  in  the  world  could  ruin  me,  unless  I  let  'em 
have  the  power." 

Ilet  was  surprised. 

"  I  should  reckon  that  was  pretty  near  to  a  Christian 
thought,"  she  said.  "  It  shows  that,  clever  though  he 
may  be,  them  ban't  born  that's  cleverer  than  the  Bible." 

"  No  harm  can  get  into  a  man  unless  the  door  be 
opened  to  it  from  inside  —  that's  his  motto.  Mind,. 
I'm  not  saying  if  'tis  supported  by  the  Bible ;  but 
there's  a  lot  in  it.  Suppose,  for  instance,  I  say  that 
what's  happened  to  me  be  all  good  and  to  my  better- 


CLOUDS 


409 


ment;  then,  If  T  can  believe  it  s.o,  I'm  not  hurt  at  all, 
but  just  the  other  way.  Suppose  I  say  the  things  that 
have  fallen  out  have  made  me  wiser,  patienter,  gentler 
with  the  world,  larger-hearted  and  such-like  ?  " 

"  The  thing  is  to  say  it,  dear." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No ;  the  thing  is  to  believe  it.  I  can't  yet.  Per- 
haps I  shall  some  day.  Perhaps  I  shall  come  to  it  on 
my  knees  afore  the  throne  of  Grace.  But  not  yet. 
There's  much  that's  too  near  and  too  raw  and  green 
yet  to  let  me  think  on  it  without  smarting.  But  I'm 
learning  ;  I'm  looking  forward  with  more  patience  and 
feel  a  larger  mind  growing  up  in  me,  Ilet." 

Little  happened  until  autumn  time;  then  with  the 
approaching  departure  of  Joe  Chastey  the  question  of 
their  new  Portreeve  stirred  Bridgetstowe.  Meanwhile 
Wolferstan  was  busy,  and  he  and  Ilet  had  strengthened 
his  old  friendships  and  established  new  ones.  The 
opinion  was  that  he  had  but  to  ask  to  receive  the 
dignity.  Yet  he  waited  and  hoped  that  instead  of 
soliciting  the  appointment,  he  might  be  invited  to 
accept  it.  The  future  dawned  in  a  manner  very  prom- 
ising, and  it  seemed  that  success  was  to  come  from 
tilling  the  soil  rather  than  rearing  of  beasts.  The  new 
garden  answered  generously  to  his  knowledge. 

In  due  course  certain  responsible  people  enquired 
whether  Wolferstan  would  care  to  fill  his  old  position, 
and  he  consented  to  do  so.  But  within  a  week  of  the 
agreement,  and  while  Mr.  Chastey  had  still  a  month 
of  office  to  complete  his  term,  there  happened  news  of 
a  nature  very  startling.  Dodd  held  it  in  his  bosom  for 
a  week,  then  it  reached  Ilet's  ears  and  was  soon  gen- 
erally known  at  Bridgetstowe.  With  this  intelligence 
the  clouds  that  had  appreciably  lifted  from  Wolferstan's 
life,  increased  a  thousandfold  and  returned  upon  him  ; 
with  it  there  vanished  the  slow  and  gradual  building 


4IO 


THE    PORTREEVE 


up  of  belief  that,  after  all,  he  had  wronged  Primrose 
Slanning.  Now  no  doubt  remained  that  his  former 
fears  were  true.  He  had  returned  but  little  more  than 
six  months  to  his  old  home  when  her  hand  was  lifted 
again.  None  who  knew  the  past  could  doubt  the 
meaning  of  the  present.  Charity  —  nourished  by  his 
wife,  and  faith  —  fortified  by  his  own  devout  nature, 
alike  fell  down  before  this  stroke. 

Ilet  saw  him  as  she  had  seen  him  during  their  last 
year  at  Okehampton  ;  she  marked  how  he  fell  once 
more  upon  a  fitful  gloom  that  drew  him  into  the  up- 
lifted and  secret  wilderness.  Again  he  was  dark  by 
day  and  distrustful  of  all  men ;  again  in  the  night 
watches,  while  she  woke,  he  tossed  and  murmured  evil 
words  against  destiny  from  a  storm  of  dreams. 

As  usual  he  took  his  affairs  by  a  sort  of  instinct  to 
the  man  who  habitually  brought  him  least  comfort. 
But  it  happened  that  Barkell  had  already  heard  some 
of  the  facts,  and  Wolferstan's  news  did  not  astonish  him. 

The  signalman  was  at  home  and  spending  a  holiday 
of  one  week's  duration  there.  He  had  planned  for 
this  short  leisure  a  trip  to  London  ;  but  his  father  was 
ill,  and  he  occupied  the  time  in  nursing  him.  Abner's 
rheumatism  had  increased,  and,  after  a  wetting,  he 
took  cold  and  for  some  days  suffered  much  torment. 
Now  he  was  better.  His  bed  had  been  drawn  up  to 
the  window  so  that  he  might  see  Meldon  Viaduct,  and 
he  uttered  many  expressions  of  concern  respecting  the 
fabric.  It  was  the  first  time  for  twenty  years  that  he 
had  not  daily  visited  it,  and  he  expressed  the  most 
grave  uneasiness  that  the  great  bridge  should  have 
suffered  this  misfortune. 

"  But  'twill  have  to  come.  *Tis  the  thin  end  of  the 
wedge  —  a  warning  like,"  he  said  to  his  son.  "  I 
can't  be  after  it  much  longer.  I'll  be  a  bed-lier 
presently  and  no  good  to  the  bridge  no  more.     The 


CLOUDS 


411 


Company  have  got  to  face  it,  and  I  hope  they  will. 
I  can't  go  on  for  ever — worse  luck.  Though  when 
I  think  of  the  Happy  Land  and  no  gert  bridge  to  be 
tended  up-along — 'tis  a  woeful  thought." 

"  Perhaps  they'll  let  you  hover  about  an'  look  after 
it  still,  my  old  dear,"  said  Dicky. 

But  Abner  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  no  good.  'Twould  only  get  on  my  nerves 
to  see  some  old  fool  buzzing  about  the  bridge,  an' 
drawing  good  money,  an'  very  like  doing  nought  for  it." 

On  the  day  that  Wolferstan  visited  his  friends,  their 
previous  talk  had  reference  to  him.  It  was  an  after- 
noon in  November,  and  Meldon  gorge  sounded  full 
of  the  hoarse  cry  of  Oke  in  spate.  Round  about,  the 
world  turned  to  sere  of  winter ;  hurrying  leaves  leapt 
and  flew  in  the  air  ;  the  Moor  was  cloud-capped  and 
none  had  seen  Yes  Tor's  summit  for  three  days. 

"  His  case  stands  this  way,"  said  Dicky,  holding  a 
light  to  his  father's  pipe  and  then  poking  the  fire. 
"  The  man  was  to  be  Portreeve  again,  and  may  yet  be 
so.  But  'tis  no  certainty,  because  another  have  rose 
up  against  him.  The  other  chap's  all  right,  and  there 
was  a  talk  of  him  years  ago,  even  before  Joe  Chastey 
took  it  on.  He  wouldn't  have  come  forward  against 
Wolferstan,  but  it  seems  that  he's  got  strong  friends, 
who  want  him  to  run  for  it.  An'  those  strong  friends 
are  miller  Slanning  and  his  lady." 

"  Then  Dodd'll  make  us  believe  against  our  will  that 
he's  right  in  the  matter  of  them  people." 

"  I  always  did  believe  it.  I  knew  it.  I  told  him 
afore  his  wedding  day  that  'twould  be  so  —  from  my 
knowledge  of  facts.  But  the  interesting  thing  is  that 
he  was  beginning  to  doubt  it  himself  Such  is  the 
hopefulness  of  that  man  —  or  his  wife  more  like  — 
that  despite  all  he's  suffered  he  actually  began  to  think 
he'd  been  wrong  and  that  they  were  only  his  enemies 


cc 

(C 

cc 


412  THE   PORTREEVE 

in  his  own  misty  mind  and  not  in  reality !  'Twas  a 
triumph  of  faith  over  reason.  But  this  has  killed  it, 
I  judge." 

"  He'd  set  his  heart  upon  playing  Portreeve  again." 
He  won't  —  not  if  Mrs.  Slanning  can  prevent  it." 
I  hope  his  religion  will  bear  the  shock." 
'Twill  want  a  bit  of  bracing  to  do  it,  father." 
As  to  that,  let  no  man  interfere.  There  be 
critical  pinches  in  our  fortunes,  when  it's  no  true  friend- 
ship to  God  to  ram  Him  down  our  neighbour's  throats. 
The  Almighty  only  gets  rude  things  said  about  Him  if 
we  let  on  about  His  manifold  goodness  just  when 
everything's  going  crooked  with  a  chap.  Wolferstan's 
not  got  the  temper  he  had,  and,  for  that  matter,  I 
never  yet  met  the  just  man  who  could  see  himself 
grossly  ill-treated,  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  without 
making  a  bit  of  a  fuss  about  it.  We  know  the  hairs 
of  our  heads  be  numbered  —  an'  no  doubt  the  numbers 
are  duly  entered  —  but  there  are  times  when  it  don't 
comfort  a  man  to  tell  him  so  ;  an'  if  Dodd's  going  to 
be  kept  out  of  Portreeve,  God's  Self  may  calm  him 
down,  but  talking  about  God  won't,  for  sartain." 

"  You  say  *  ill-treated  through  no  fault  of  his  own. 
That's  the  point.  Who's  going  to  say  where  the 
fault  lies  ?  Can  we  reap  the  misery  what  another  have 
sown  —  except  the  misery  of  our  own  weak  bodies  or 
weak  heads  sown  by  our  fathers  an'  mothers  ?  " 

"That  holds  in  everything,  and  be  like  one  of  your 
damned  silly  questions,  as  no  mortal  man  can  answer," 
snapped  Abner.  "  You'd  put  all  our  faults  and  fail- 
ings down  to  them  that  got  us,  and  them  that  got 
themo  That's  no  better  than  bullying  the  dead,  if 
you  ax  me.     Not  that  they'll  care." 

"  A  very  sharp  thought  for  such  an  old  man,"  said 
Dicky.  "  You  often  say  a  cleverer  thing  than  you 
know,  father." 


CLOUDS  413 

"And  you  often  say  a  sillier  thing  than  what  you've 
any  idea  of,"  answered  the  veteran.  "  'Tis  along  of 
your  eggication.  You  take  in  more  than  you  can 
tackle,  Richard." 

At  this  juncture  Wolferstan  appeared  and  told  them 
what  they  already  knew.  Another  man  had  been  pro- 
posed for  the  vacant  position.  Opinions  were  divided. 
The  man  did  not  want  to  stand,  but  those  interested 
in  him  insisted  upon  it.  There  was  to  be  an  election 
in  six  weeks'  time. 

"  Roger  Bartlett  stood  foreman  at  *  Slanning's ' 
twelve  years  ago,"  explained  Dodd.  "  He's  just  my 
age  and  doing  for  himself  now.  He  knows  the  work 
well  enough,  but  he's  no  horseman,  and  won't  be  able 
to  go  out  over  the   Bridgetstowe  Commons  as  I  can." 

"  Is  he  wishful  to  stand  against  you  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  axed  him  straight.  He  can't  help 
himself.  He's  obliged,  for  certain  reasons,  to  Orlando 
Slanning,  and  Slanning's  reminded  him  of  the  fact  and 
explained  to  him  that  he  wants  a  friend  as  Portreeve. 
Of  course  I  see  it  all  crystal  clear.  'Tis  nothing  to 
Slanning  —  everything  to  her.  Her  hand's  in  it. 
She'll  win." 

"  That's  the  question,"  said  Dicky.  "  Why  for 
should  she  ?  Given  a  fair  and  square  election,  and 
you  ought  to  romp  home." 

"  Fair  and  square  are  no  words  to  apply  to  anything 
she  does.     She'll  win,  I  tell  you." 

"  'Twill  be  your  fault  if  you  let  her  then.  Why, 
almost  the  last  time  we  talked  about  her,  you  said 
you'd  take  no  more,  that  you'd  give  as  good  as  you 
got  henceforth  —  and  maybe  better.  Go  in  and  win, 
and  see  her  man  damned  —  eh,  father?" 

"  See  him  beat,  certainly.  If  the  law  gives  me  a 
vote,  'tis  yours,  Dodd  —  even  though  I  have  to  spend 
two  shilling  on  summat  to  drive  me  to  the  election." 


414  THE   PORTREEVE 

"Thank  you,  Abner  —  I  know  that.  And  a  good 
few  others  think  the  same.  I  shall  fight  it,  for  certain. 
If  I'm  beat " 

"  You  won't  be  beat,"  said  Mr.  Barkell.  "  Us  all 
know  what  a  pattern  of  a  Portreeve  you  made,  tearing 
round  the  country  on  your  great  boss.  Why,  Bartlett 
be  a  market  huckster  and  holder  of  cottage  property 
—  not  the  right  chap  at  all." 

"  And  don't  go  to  church  neither,"  said  Dicky. 
"  That's  a  fact,  for  he  thinks  much  as  I  do." 

"  He's  got  them  behind  him,  however.  You  know 
what  Bridgetstowe  is.  You've  only  got  to  tell  the 
people  often  enough  you're  a  fine  fellow,  an'  they'll 
soon  believe  you.      Look  at  Slanning  himself" 

"  'Tis  the  same  everywhere,  for  that  matter,"  said 
Dicky.  "  You  must  advertise  your  good  parts,  for 
the  world's  too  busy  to  find  'em  out  for  itself  But, 
to  make  up  for  that,  it's  always  quite  ready  to  be- 
lieve you,  if  you  can  bawl  loud  enough  to  catch  its 
ears. 

"You'll  win  all  right,"  declared  Mr.  Barkell. 
"  You're  a  tried  man  at  the  game.  You  did  the  work 
well  —  better  than  Chastey  did.  The  people  know 
you're  a  first-rate  Portreeve.  They  don't  know  that 
Bartlett  would  be." 

"  There's  nothing  to  it  really  —  more  than  the 
honour  and  glory,"  explained  Dodd.  "  For  my  part, 
I  didn't  over  much  want  it  till  I  heard  this.  Now, 
have  it  I  will,  or  there'll  be  a  reckoning.  I  won't  be 
hit  no  more  without  hitting  back." 

Abner  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  you  tell  like  that.  Go  about  the  job  in  a 
prayerful  and  a  sportsmanlike  spirit,  Dodd.  Don't  talk 
about  what  you'll  do  if  you'm  bested.  Go  at  it  like 
a  lion,  and  take  jolly  good  care  you'm  not  bested." 

Dicky  seconded    this  advice  and   the    conversation 


CLOUDS  415 

changed.  But  it  drifted  back  to  Wolferstan  again  and 
again,  and  rarely  left  him.  The  fact  Abner  marked 
when  he  had  gone. 

"  A  very  different  man  to  what  he  was,"  he  said. 
"One  time  other  folk  comed  first  in  his  thoughts; 
now  they  never  come  at  all ;  one  time  he'd  have  been 
full  of  care  to  see  me  struck  down  an'  twisted  like  this, 
and  groaning  at  the  fall  of  a  leaf;  but  now  —  not  a 
word  about  my  illness  —  did  you  mark  that?  A  very 
own-self  man  he'm  growing.  'Tis  a  bad  failing,  for  it 
cuts  away  friends  quicker  than  anything." 

"  You're  right,"  said  Dicky.  "  Ban't  any  sign  of 
power  to  see  a  man  playing  a  lone  hand.  What's  the 
strength  of  one  to  the  strength  of  a  score  ?  Or  the 
love  of  one  to  the  love  of  twenty  ?  'Tis  better  to  have 
twenty  people  on  your  side  than  to  have  only  yourself 
your  side  and  the  twenty  against  you.  An'  that  I  see 
clear  enough,  though  nobody  ever  loved  me,  and 
nobody  ever  will,  or  can,  according  to  my  own 
nature." 

"  You  take  a  lot  of  knowing,  without  a  doubt,  to  say 
it  fatherly,  Richard,"  declared  his  parent. 


CHAPTER  XV 


DICKY    VISITS    ORLANDO 


THE  forthcoming  contest  for  the  office  of  Port- 
reeve deeply  stirred  Bridgetstowe,  and  woke  a 
surprising  amount  of  attention.  Interest  ri- 
pened into  party  feehng,  for  there  was  a  section  of  the 
community  that  held  it  a  duty  to  vote  as  their  betters 
desired  ;  and  it  presently  appeared  that  the  Slannings 
had  influenced  many  persons  to  advance  Roger  Bart- 
lett's  cause.  But  the  Vicar  of  Bridgetstowe  was  on 
Wolferstan's  side,  and  he  commanded  numerous  votes. 
A  fortnight  before  the  election,  opinions  were  pretty 
equally  divided  between  the  opponents ;  and  Dodd's 
best  friends  deplored  delay,  for  it  was  soon  apparent 
that  he  did  not  assist  his  candidature,  or  conduct  his 
campaign  with  wisdom.  He  posed  as  a  man  with  a 
bitter  grievance.  He  had  some  words  with  Bartlett 
and  blamed  him  harshly  for  standing  at  all.  He  gave 
out  that  his  opponent  was  Orlando  Slanning's  creature, 
and  openly  declared  that  neither  the  miller  nor  his  man 
understood  the  duties  of  Portreeve.  Some  agreed  with 
him  ;  others  did  not ;  a  few  were  turned  from  him  by 
his  unwise  attitude.  Mr.  Bartlett  had  many  friends, 
and  his  more  sedate  bearing  at  this  juncture  led  thought- 
ful men  to  judge  him  as  actually  a  better  candidate. 
The  observant  noted  that  Dodd  was  changed  since 
last  he  dwelt  amongst  them.  They  knew  not  the  rea- 
sons, but  deplored  a  visible  degeneracy.  A  shrewd 
man  marked  that  even  Wolferstan's  diction  had  de- 

416 


DICKY   VISITS   ORLANDO  417 

cllned  somewhat.  He  spoke  more  like  the  people 
than  he  was  wont  to  speak. 

The  curate  of  Bridgetstowe  had  speech  with  old 
Henny  Pierce,  and  ventured  to  hint  that  Wolferstan 
would  be  better  employed  in  minding  his  private  busi- 
ness, than  in  labouring  for  his  election. 

"  Let  him  leave  it  to  his  friends,"  he  said.  "  He's 
in  a  fair  way  to  win,  I  believe ;  but  he's  not  doing 
himself  any  good  by  talking  so  much.  Try  and  get 
him  to  keep  in  his  garden  by  day  and  in  his  house  by 
night.  You  understand.  Plenty  of  good  fellows  are 
busy  for  him." 

This  excellent  advice  swiftly  reached  Dodd's  ear  ;  but 
unfortunately  Henny  peppered  it  a  trifle  with  her  own 
flavouring.  She  knew  Wolferstan  well,  appreciated 
his  qualities,  and  regretted  his  failings.  But  these  she 
clearly  saw,  and  the  memory  of  her  dead  son  served 
rather  to  accentuate  by  comparison  the  defects  of  I  let's 
second  husband.  Time  is  compact  of  charity,  and 
while  softening  what  was  unbeautiful  in  the  loved  dead, 
yearly  adds  lustre  to  their  better  part.  Now  Abel 
Pierce  in  his  mother's  mind  dwelt  as  the  gracious 
memory  of  a  gentle-hearted  man,  who  did  right  in  the 
sight  of  God,  loved  little  children  and  justified  his 
existence.  Passing,  he  left  behind  the  recollection  of 
a  good  son,  a  good  husband  and  a  good  father.  But 
Wolferstan  presented  no  such  perfect  picture  to  Mrs. 
Pierce's  observation.  She  marked  and  chid  his  faults. 
In  dark  moods  he  grew  impatient  with  her  and  hinted 
at  providing  for  her  elsewhere ;  at  other  times  he  told 
Ilet  that  she  was  good  for  them  and  must  be  endured. 

When  opportunity  came  Henny  repeated  the  curate's 
counsel  in  her  own  words.  The  time  was  pat,  for 
Wolferstan  had  been  grumbling  to  some  men  who 
visited  him  after  supper.  Then  they  departed  and 
Mrs.  Pierce  spoke. 

2E 


41 8  THE   PORTREEVE 

"  How  you  think  you'm  helping  yourself  by  all  this 
chittering,  I  don't  know,  Dodd,"  she  said. 

"  What  d'you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Why,  surely  nought  tires  people  worse  than  listen- 
ing to  a  man  with  a  grievance.  Them  chaps  was  all 
yawning  their  heads  off  while  you  jawed  to  'em. 
They  only  waited  till  thicky  bottle  was  empty,  then 
up  they  got  an'  away." 

"  They're  all  my  side,  however.  You  must  be  civil 
to  them  as  be  going  to  vote  for  you,  I   should  think." 

"  Civil  as  you  please.  But  what's  the  good  of 
blackguarding  Roger  Bartlett  all  the  time  ^  And 
Slocom  is  his  own  cousin,  an*  a  shifty  man,  as  you  can 
see  in  his  eye.  Every  word  you  said  will  go  back  to 
Bartlett." 

"  I  don't  care  if  they  do.      Truth's  truth." 

"  It  may  be ;  truth's  libel  too,  so  often  as  not.  You 
defamed  the  man's  character  by  saying  he  was  under 
Mr.  Slanning's  thumb.  An'  'tis  well  known  he  never 
says  a  word  against  you." 

"  I  should  think  he  didn't !  What  word  should  he 
say  against  me  ?  " 

"  Well  —  he  might  say  you  let  your  tongue  run 
away  with  you  sometimes.  That  wouldn't  be  far 
short  of  the  truth  anyway." 

The  man  showed  irritation. 

"  It  gets  harder  and  harder  to  please  you,"  he  an- 
swered.    "  Of  course  if  you're  against  me " 

"  That's  likely,  isn't  it  ?  To  be  against  my  own 
bread  and  board?  No,  I'm  for  you  heart  and  soul. 
That's  why  I  speak  what  wiser  people  than  me  think. 
If  you'd  only  stick  to  your  work  and  not  talk  so  much, 
you'd  get  the  job  ;  but  you  ban't  helping  yourself  by 
being  so  busy.  You're  surprising  people,  and  not  very 
pleasantly  neither." 

"  Who  told  you  to  tell  me  this  ?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 


DICKY    VISITS    ORLANDO  419 

"  No  matter  for  that.  Ax  yourself  if  'tis  good 
advice  or  bad." 

He  said  nothing.  Then  she  stabbed  him  to  the 
quick,  though  not  intentionally. 

"  Keep  away  from  everybody  till  afterwards.  Let 
'em  all  remember  you  as  you  were  —  not  as  you  are." 

He  flamed  and  started  to  his  feet.  Ilet,  who  had 
listened  to  this  conversation,  also  rose.  The  old 
woman  glanced  at  them,  then  held  her  needle  to  the 
lamp  and  threaded  it. 

"  That's  how  you  pay  for  your  keep,"  said  Dodd 
coarsely.  "  That's  how  you  sting  the  hand  that  feeds 
you.  You're  an  evil-minded  old  liar,  and  you  know 
it.  How  can  a  man  change  ?  I  ban't  changed  one 
hair.  I'm  the  same  as  I  always  was — I'm  —  but 
what's  the  good  of  talking  to  you  ?  Another  time, 
when  my  friends  come  to  see  me,  just  you  keep  out  of 
the  way.     And  when  I  want  vinegar  from  you " 

He  broke  off  and  prepared  to  depart.  Ilet  begged 
him  not  to  do  so.  But  he  refused,  in  a  voice  like  the 
slamming  of  a  door.  A  moment  afterwards  he  had 
gone  out. 

Henny  worked  on  unmoved;  Ilet  also  kept  silence 
for  a  while  ;  then  she  spoke. 

"  Why  did  you  say  that  ?  'Twas  an  awful  cruel 
thing  to  say,  mother." 

"  Not  so  cruel  as  to  keep  it  from  him.  If  once  he 
could  see  himself  changed,  he  might  fight  back  to  his 
old  self  belike.  So  long  as  he  thinks  everybody  else 
is  in  fault  and  himself  blameless,  he'll  go  on  this  fool's 
way  till  the  folk  be  wearied  of  him.  'Twasn't  so  once, 
and  you  know  it  better'n  anybody.  You're  right  to 
love  him  and  stick  up  for  him ;  but  don't  believe  all 
this  stuff  about  plans  and  plots  and  enemies  behind 
every  gate-post.  The  truth  is  that  nobody  cares  a 
farthing  about  him  now  —  one  way  or  t'other.     'Tis 


420  THE    PORTREEVE 

his  business  to  make  friends,  like  he  used  to  make  'em 

—  not  foes." 

"  That's  true.  All  the  same,  there's  one  terrible 
enemy  be  real  enough.  We  can't  pretend  different. 
But  for  her,  Bartlett  would  never  have  wanted  to  be 
Portreeve.      For  that  matter,  he  doesn't  now." 

"Then  'tis  for  us  to  be  better  than  her,  and  beat 
her  side  by  force  of  right.  'Twas  Mr,  Sim,  the  curate, 
told  me  he  was  putting  his  foot  in  it  by  talking  so 
much." 

"  I've  knowed  it  too.  I'll  say  a  cautious  word  when 
he's  cool  again.  And  I'll  tell  you  another  thing  that's 
very  much  in  my  mind  of  late:  that  is  to  see  her  — 
Mrs.  Slanning.  When  first  the  thought  came  I  put 
it  away  —  then  it  came  again  ;  and  every  day  it's  at  me 

—  a  sort  of  force  driving  me  to  go  to   her,  woman  to 
woman,  and  plead  with  her  to  drop  it." 

"  He'd  wring  your  neck  if  he  catched  you  out  in 
that." 

"I  needn't  tell  him.  Anyway  he  wouldn't  rage 
long,  I  reckon.  'Tis  a  wife's  place,  surely,  to  fight  for 
a  man  if  she  has  the  power .?      I  might  do  much." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't.  If  Mrs.  Slanning's  all  he 
thinks  her,  she'd  laugh  at  you,  and  take  very  good 
care  that  he  should  know  after  as  you'd  been  to  her. 
He  may  bally-rag  me  till  he's  black  in  the  face,  and  no 
harm  done  ;  but  it  won't  do  for  him  to  fall  out  with  you." 

"  That's  impossible." 

"  Nought's  impossible  when  a  man's  mind  grows 
weak.  That  sort  quarrels  with  their  best  friend  first. 
Don't  you  give  him  the  chance  to  fall  out  with  you. 
'Twould  be  the  end  of  all  things  if  he  done  that." 

"  Nothing  I  could  do  would  bring  it  about." 

"  All  the  same,  hold  off  from  her.  That's  what  I 
say,  Ilet.  Just  busy  yourself  with  keeping  the  man  in 
a  good  temper  till  they  decide  about  it.     If  he  gets  it. 


DICKY    VISITS    ORLANDO  421 

'twill  be  the  beginning  of  better  things  very  like  ;  for 
his  temper  always  depends  on  how  the  wind  blows; 
and  if  it  blows  fair,  he'll  soon  be  better  company.  If 
it  don't  —  if  he  loses,  then  'twill  be  time  enough  to  do 
summat." 

Ilet  felt  the  worth  of  this  advice  and  thanked  Henny 
for  it. 

"  I  wish  he'd  listen  to  you  oftener,  for  you've  got 
the  wisdom  of  years  behind  you,"  she  said.  "  Any- 
way, I'll  keep  off  from  '  Slanning's  '  till  after,  and  do 
what  I  can  to  make  him  easy." 

"  'Tis  Sacrament  Sunday  to-morrow,"  said  Henny. 
"  Make  him  go.  The  Lord's  Supper  works  wonders 
in  the  man  for  forty-eight  hours,  and  sometimes  more." 

Wolferstan  returned  before  they  had  finished  talk- 
ing ;  and  his  first  act  was  to  kiss  Mrs.  Pierce  and 
express  profound  contrition  and  sorrow  for  his  offence. 
Whereupon  her  firm  attitude  crumbled,  and  she  wept, 
and  forgave  him,  and  begged  him  to  forgive  her. 

Meantime  the  events  of  the  coming  election  had 
worked  a  wonder  in  another  quarter  and  moved  Rich- 
ard Barkell  to  a  definite  deed.  A  thing  that  he  had 
been  morally  powerless  to  perform  on  his  own  account, 
proved  possible  for  a  friend.  He  appreciated  the  im- 
mense importance  of  the  coming  election,  and  reluc- 
tantly decided  with  himself  that  he  must  endeavour  to 
help  Wolferstan.  The  younger  Barkell  was  but  little 
known,  for,  as  became  a  contemplative  man,  he  kept 
much  to  himself  and  seldom  frequented  company. 
Certainly  not  twenty  people  in  Bridgetstowe  had  spoken 
with  him,  and  perhaps  not  fifty  knew  of  his  existence. 
But  that  fact  did  not  alter  his  plans.  He  had  no  in- 
tention to  canvass  amongst  the  voters,  or  by  any  such 
means  advance  his  friend.  A  greater  enterprise  occu- 
pied his  mind.     Its  futility   seemed  assured ;  yet  he 


422  THE   PORTREEVE 

felt  the  attempt  worth  making.  In  the  first  place 
Dodd  would  not  hear  of  it ;  and  at  worst,  this 
thing  he  proposed  could  not  lessen  the  chances  of 
success.  Barkell  therefore  strung  himself  to  do  a  deed 
very  foreign  to  his  natural  instincts.  When  leisure 
came,  he  put  on  his  best  clothes,  took  train  from 
Okehampton  to  Bridgetstowe,  and  walked  over  to 
*  Slanning's  '  to  see  the  master  of  the  mill. 

Orlando  was  at  home,  in  a  little  room  where  he 
transacted  his  business.  Evening  had  already  fallen. 
On  hearing  that  a  man  wanted  to  see  him,  he  came  to 
the  front  door ;  but  finding  the  stranger  attired  in 
broadcloth,  invited  him  to  enter. 

Barkell  wasted  no  time.  He  sat  down,  put  his  hard 
hat  beside  him,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  other's  face  and 
began. 

"  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me  for  troubling  you,  Mr. 
Slanning.  I  don't  know  that  'twas  a  very  clever  thing 
for  me  to  come  to  you  ;  but  'tis  for  another  rather  than 
myself." 

"  I  haven't  got  an  hour's  work  for  anybody,  if  that's 
what  you  want.  There  are  too  many  lazy  chaps  here 
already." 

"  They  are  everywhere.  There's  no  escape  from 
lazy  chaps,  so  long  as  the  law  don't  make  it  a  crime. 
No,  I'm  not  after  work.  My  name's  Barkell,  and  I'm 
a  railway  signalman  on  the  L.  and  S.W.  Dodd  Wolf- 
erstan  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  I've  made  so  bold  as  to 
come  here  unknown  to  him  about  this  business." 

"  You're  a  meddler  then  ?  " 

Barkell  laughed.  His  sense  of  humour  was  tickled 
by  this  word  applied  to  him. 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,  though  if  there's  a  sort  of  man 
I  can't  abide,  'tis  that  sort.  But  a  meddler  I  am  in  this 
job,  and  you've  only  got  to  tell  me  to  go  about  my 
business,  and  I'll  do  so  gladly.     I  don't  take  to  it." 


DICKY   VISITS    ORLANDO  423 


The  election,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Yes.  Mind  I've  no  right  to  ask  you  questions, 
Mr.  Slanning — no  right,  but  some  reason.  That 
man's  welfare  hangs  on  this  job.  If  he  fails,  you  may 
have  a  ruined  man  on  your  mind.  I  say  this  to  you 
and  I  come  to  you,  because  you  hold  this  election  in 
the  hollow  of  your  hand.  Of  course  everybody  knows 
that." 

Slanning  had  meant  to  cut  the  interview  short ;  but 
Dicky's  flattery  pleased  him. 

"  I  suppose  I  do.  Well,  I'm  keen  on  Roger  Bart- 
lett." 

"  And  that  fact  as  good  as  settles  the  business.  I 
was  wondering  if  such  a  sportsman  and  such  a  renowned 
man  for  justice  as  you  are  —  to  be  a  J. P.  they  tell  me 
—  I  was  wondering  if  you'd  thought  of  what  a  thing 
it  is  to  decide  this  election  just  by  your  own  nod  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  help  that  ?      Bartlett's  my  candidate." 

"  He's  standing  out  of  respect  to  you,  because  you 
wished  it." 

"  A  very  good  reason." 

"  The  best  possible,  Mr.  Slanning.  Don't  think 
I'd  presume  to  say  different.  Only  I  ventured  to 
wonder  if  you'd  thought  what  a  difference  it  would 
make  to  Wolferstan  —  your  being  against  him.  If 
your  wishes  were  not  known,  'twould  have  been  a  fair 
fight  and  no  favour ;  but  your  name  in  the  country- 
side—  you  know  what  it  is.  Once  let  the  people  hear 
what  you  wish,  and  they'll  go  your  way,  like  sheep 
after  the  bell-wether.     You're  the  leading  power  here." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  my  candidate." 

"  I  know ;  but  is  it  so  much  the  better  for  you  ? 
You're  famed  for  fearless  justice.  You  do  good  with 
both  hands.  The  poor  look  up  to  you.  Well,  now, 
if  you  throw  your  weight  into  the  scale  against  Wolfer- 
stan—  does  it  seem  to  you,  as  a  man  of  great  ideas 


424  THE   PORTREEVE 

and  great  principles,  that  you  are  being  just  ?  'Tis  a 
terrible  serious  thing  to  have  such  strength  as  you 
have.     Not  many  could  be  trusted  with  it," 

"  I  know  that.  It  makes  me  feel  rather  solemn 
sometimes  when   I   look  around  the  parish." 

"  It  would  no  doubt.  Not  but  what  all  men  with 
brains  are  like  to  be  solemn.  Only  the  light-headed 
can  ever  be  light-hearted,  Mr.  Slanning." 

"  I  don't  say  that.      I  have  my  joke  with  the  best." 

"  Yes,  your  jokes  I  believe  are  well  thought  on  and 
remembered  long  after  you've  forgot  'em.     At  the  last 

hunt  dinner But  this  is  no  joke.     Wolferstan's 

had  a  spell  of  terrible  bad  luck,  and  he's  struggling 
hard  to  get  his  head  out  of  water  again.  He's  awful 
sorry  he  was  foolish  enough  to  say  a  rude  thing  to  you. 
He  told  me  so  with  his  own  lips.  But  I  told  him  that 
nothing  he  could  say  could  hurt  you,  though  it  might 
hurt  himself." 

"That's  exactly  what  happened " 

Orlando  rose  and  shut  the  door. 

"  I  was  quite  prepared  to  be  friendly  to  the  fellow 
after  —  after  certain  things  fell  out.  But  he  proved 
to  be  quite  impossible." 

"  Give  him  another  chance,  Mr.  Slanning.  A  bit 
of  luck  would  be  the  salvation  of  him.  You'd  never 
regret  it.  'Twould  be  a  proud  day  for  you,  to  know 
you'd  made  a  man  by  just  a  word." 

Slanning  was  silent  and  the  other  continued  cautiously. 

"  You  see,  he's  had  his  trials  same  as  you,  if  I  may 
say  it  without  impertinence.  'Twas  his  dream  and 
hope  to  have  a  family ;  but  it  has  been  denied  him  by 
a  very  unhappy  chance.  You're  in  the  same  fix.  To 
a  man  of  your  large  views  and  high  education,  these 
cruel  things  don't  matter  so  much,  because  you've  got 
intellect  and  brain  power  to  lift  you  up  ;  but  he's  a  very 
unphilosophical  man  and  soon  worked  up  into  wrath. 


DICKY   VISITS   ORLANDO  425 

Yet  a  very  useful  man.  Even  you  might  find  that 
out  some  day.  You  never  know  who  may  not  come 
in  useful." 

"  I  haven't  an  enemy  in  the  world  to  my  knowledge." 

"  Or  anybody's  knowledge,  Mr.  Slanning.  The 
thing  is  whether,  as  such  a  tower  of  justice,  you  can 
overthrow  this  man  right  away  in  this  manner." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  Slanning,  "  the  same 
idea  has  occurred  to  me  several  times.  I  am  a  sports- 
man, as  you  say,  and  I'm  awfully  keen  on  justice  — 
that's  why  I've  let  it  be  known  I  want  to  be  a  J. P. 
And  no  doubt  I   shall  be  made  one  pretty  soon." 

"And  a  very  good  thing  for  the  countryside  when 
you  are,  if  I  may  say  so.  You  see,  it  isn't  as  if  Roger 
Bartlett  wanted  to  be  Portreeve.  He's  had  to  offer 
for  it,  because  you  told  him  to  do  so;  but  if  you  just 

let  the  thing  take  its  course Why,  a  nod  from 

you  goes  further  than  a  speech  from  another  man.  I'll 
wager  that  even  now,  with  only  a  week  to  go,  if  you 
was  to  say  that,  on  second  thoughts,  you  reckoned 
the  old  Portreeve  might  best  fill  the  post,  the  word 
would  fly  on  every  tongue  and  Wolferstan  would  win." 

"  I  couldn't  do  that  —  really." 

"No,  Mr.  Slanning,  you  could  not  —  not  now;  but 
I'm  only  saying  that  you've  the  power.  Of  course  you 
couldn't  go  so  far  openly  —  but  'tis  wonderful  what 
tact  and  skill  will  do.  Bartlett  would  be  mighty  glad 
to  lose  for  one,  I  do  believe.  He'd  thank  you  to  let 
him  off." 

Slanning  reflected  upon  his  wife. 

For  a  moment  he  changed  the  subject.  Barkell's 
eccentric  face  and  flagrant  flattery  pleased  him.  He 
wanted  to  hear  a  few  more  pleasant  things,  if  possible. 

"I'm  not  a  conservative  in  these  matters,  and  be- 
lieve in  change,  you  know.  By  change  I  mean  that  I 
have  got  rather  extended  views  on    progress  and  all 


426  THE   PORTREEVE 

that.  I've  seen  the  world.  You  can't  be  a  conser- 
vative if  you've  seen  the  world,  Barkell." 

"  True  for  you,  Mr.  Slanning.  I  do  hope  that 
some  day  you'll  be  tempted  to  stand  for  Parliament 
yourself.     'Tis  men  with  your  views  we  badly  want." 

"  Parliament  —  eh  .?     That's  rather  a  big  order." 

"  If  you  can  get  votes  in  a  little  matter  by  holding 
up  your  finger,  think  of  the  votes  you'd  get  in  a  big 
matter  by  going  afore  the  people  yourself!  Why,  the 
whole  countryside  would  come  forward  ! " 

"  It's  a  rum  thing,"  declared  Orlando  with  a  pleased 
cackle,  "  but  they  do  all  seem  to  want  to  know  my 
opinion.  *  What  does  Mr.  Slanning  think  ? '  That's 
the  question  people  always  ask  each  other  before  they 
do  anything  here." 

"  Very  much  to  their  credit.  'Tis  the  likes  of  you, 
as  have  seen  the  world,  must  think  for  the  likes  of  us, 
who  haven't." 

"  But  I'm  a  red  radical.  I  warn  you  of  that, 
Barkell." 

"  And  so's  all  the  wisest.  They'd  cheer  you  to  the 
echo.  I  know  what  you'd  tell  'em,  Mr.  Slanning,  for 
I  see  it  in  your  face." 

"  Yes  ?     Yes  ?  " 

"  You'd  say  that  you'd  no  patience  with  all  this 
bunkum  about  birth.  You'd  say  that  we  all  had 
the  same  number  of  forebears  —  king  and  tinker  ;  but 
that  the  difference  was,  the  king's  was  remembered  and 
the  tinker's  forgot.  You'd  say  'twas  the  best  joke  in 
the  world,  that  a  man  should  be  on  top,  just  because 
his  father  got  there.  Why,  'twould  be  as  good  sense 
to  hang  a  man,  because  his  father  was  hung,  as  to  stick 
him  up  to  make  laws  and  dictate  to  the  nation,  because 
his  father  did.  All  such  things  you'd  say,  and  carry 
everybody  with  you  —  I  can  'most  hear  you  doing  it — 
in  better  language,  of  course,  than  I've  got." 


DICKY    VISITS    ORLANDO  427 

"  I've  often  thought  that  myself.  Liberty  is  the 
idea.     Freedom  for  all." 

"Right!  The  case  in  a  nutshell.  I'm  sure  I'm 
very  much  obliged  to  you  for  putting  these  things 
so  clear  to  me,  Mr.  Slanning.  But  1  didn't  hesitate 
to  come,  when  a  friend  told  me  you'd  got  a  ear  for 
the  least  among  us." 

"  That's  true.  Any  man  can  approach  me.  There's 
no  side  about  me  —  not  a  spark." 

"  No  ;  but  there's  a  wonderful  deal  of  sense.  'Tis 
amazing,  if  I  may  say  it,  how  quick  you  took  my 
point  about  Wolferstan." 

"I  can't  do  anything  outright,  you  know;  but  I'm 
very  much  of  your  mind  —  really.  Circumstances 
over  which  I  had  no  control  —  at  least  not  that  —  but 
there  were  reasons.  However,  I'll  do  what  can  be 
done.  It's  dangerous  "  —  he  was  thinking  of  Prim- 
rose —  "  at  least,  not  dangerous,  but  difficult  even  for 
me,  at  the  eleventh  hour " 

"  I  know  how  difficult.  If  it  had  been  anybody  else, 
I  shouldn't  have  come,  because  I  should  have  under- 
stood 'twould  have  been  too  late ;  but  with  you,  I  felt 
that  there  it  was  —  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand,  to  do 
or  not  to  do." 

Dicky  got  up. 

"  And  if  you  ever  stand  for  Parliament,  I  know 
they  that  think  as  I  do  will  try  and  get  you  in,  Mr. 
Slanning.  I  can  promise  you  there's  a  lot  of  'em 
about,  anyway." 

"  Shake  hands,"  said  Orlando.  "  You're  a  man 
of  sense,  and  I'm  glad  to  meet  you.  If  ever  anything 
happens  where  I  can  be  of  use  to  you,  let  me  know." 

"  Thank  you.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Slanning.  They 
didn't  tell  me  a  word  about  you  that  wasn't  true,"  said 
Dicky  with  fine  irony.  "  'Tis  great  kindness  in  you 
to  have  heard  me  so  patiently ;  and  I'm  very  much  in 


42  8  THE    PORTREEVE 

your  debt ;  and  if  Wolferstan  gets  in  now,  I  shall  say 
you're  a  born  wonder  —  a  leader  of  men,  I'm  sure." 

"Don't  mention  this  conversation,  however — not 
to  anybody  at  all.      It  may  interfere  with  my  plans." 

"  I  promise  that,"  answered  the  signalman. 

Then  he  went  his  way  with  renewed  thanks. 

"  '  Mention  it,'  "  he  thought.  "  Not  very  likely  ! 
I  do  beheve  I'm  ashamed  of  myself —  though  I  never 
yet  felt  so  afore.  What  a  damned  humbug  a  man 
may  be  and  never  know  it!  If  I  was  made  of  brass 
instead  of  mud,  I  should  have  been  the  very  chap  for 
a  Labour  Candidate  myself !  " 


CHAPTER   XVI 


THE    ELECTION 


THERE  broke  a  lifeless  and  leaden  dawn  of  fly- 
ing clouds,  flattened  layer  upon  layer  by  fierce 
winds  from  the  south-east.  At  five  o'clock  the 
blind  of  Ilet's  bedroom  was  lifted  on  the  morning  of  the 
election,  and  she  looked  out  at  the  desolation  of  the  sky. 
Grey  billows  of  vapour  rolled  down  off  the  distant 
Moor  in  sulky,  sad-coloured  confusion  of  mingled 
gloom  and  light.  The  earth  planes  beneath  stretched 
flat  and  chaotic  as  a  picture  unfinished.  Only  the  wind 
made  a  great  activity  on  their  surfaces,  and,  in  the 
semi-darkness,  the  trees  tossed  and  shed  their  thinning 
foliage,  and  the  multitudes  of  the  leaves  now  flew 
along  the  sky,  now  ran  in  little  companies  upon  the 
empty  road.  Roots  were  not  yet  garnered,  and  the 
lush  foliage  of  swedes  and  mangolds  caught  the  gath- 
ering light  as  it  winnowed  down  out  of  the  grey,  and 
reflected  it  with  dim  flashings  when  the  wind  moved 
their  leaves.  Severity  and  simplicity  were  the  qualities 
of  this  dawn.  Presently  cocks  challenged  and  others 
answered  with  distant  clarions.  As  though  waiting 
the  signal,  rain  began  steadily  to  fall.  Ilet  uncon- 
sciously felt  that  a  spirit  of  hopelessness  heralded  day. 
She  turned  half  in  a  mood  again  to  join  her  husband 
where  he  still  slept;  but  instead  she  rose,  called  her 
daughter,  and  went  downstairs  to  light  the  fire. 

The  election  would  begin  at  nine  o'clock  and  termi- 
nate at  noon. 

429 


430 


THE   PORTREEVE 


Wolferstan  took  his  breakfast  soon  after  six,  then 
worked  for  a  while.  Anon  he  changed  his  clothes, 
which  were  wet,  and  talked  of  going  into  the  village. 

With  the  separate  actions  of  his  wife  and  himself 
upon  this  day  it  is  necessary  to  be  concerned.  She 
was  first  astir,  and  whereas  he  did  not  set  out  much 
before  mid-day,  Ilet  was  at  the  poUing  station  in  the 
church  vestry  an  hour  earlier.  She  spoke  with  John 
and  Thomas  Ball,  who  had  come  to  support  Dodd, 
and  then  she  welcomed  others  of  his  friends.  Barkell 
was  not  able  to  visit  Bridgetstowe  until  the  evening. 

Johnny  Ball  could  give  Ilet  little  encouragement. 
The  voters  made  no  secret  of  their  purpose,  and  he 
rather  feared  that  more  were  on  the  other  side.  At 
best  Wolferstan  thus  far  could  be  said  to  hold  no  ad- 
vantage. While  she  waited,  some  twenty  men  appeared, 
and  they  cheered  her.  Nearly  all  were  for  her  husband. 
There  was  a  rumour  abroad  that  Roger  Bartlett  had 
changed  his  mind  and  actually  begged  his  friends  not 
to  elect  him.  Some  even  said  that  Orlando  Slanning 
was  also  indifferent  and  had  been  heard  to  declare  at 
the  '  Royal  Oak '  that  he  cared  not  a  button  who  won. 
The  next  batch  of  voters  were  more  disposed  to  keep 
their  own  counsel,  and  Ilet  feared  that  they  were  against 
her.  One,  who  smarted  from  some  foolish  remark 
levelled  against  him  over-night  by  Dodd,  now  opened 
his  mind  to  her  and  spoke  harshly  against  her  husband. 

"  He'm  not  fitted  for  Portreeve,  or  dustman  either,  or 
any  man's  work,"  he  said.  "  There's  no  steadfastness 
to  him  —  can't  stand  a  word.  He  makes  enemies  so 
fast  as  once  he  made  friends.  And  let  me  tell  you, 
ma'am,  it  won't  pay  him  to  be  blustering  here  now,  with 
nought  behind  him  but  ten  years  of  failure;  and  so  I 
told  him.  Let  him  go  to  the  plough-tail  again,  and 
larn  patience  and  modesty.  I  ban't  going  to  vote  for 
him  —  not  after  last  night  —  and  so  you  can  tell  hira," 


THE    ELECTION  431 

It  seemed  that  others  were  also  of  this  mind;  but 
presently  there  followed  friends,  so  that  Ilet's  spirit 
lifted.  Then  more  opponents  appeared,  and  anon 
Roger  Bartlett  himself  entered  the  vestry.  He  knew 
Mrs.  Wolferstan  well  enough,  and  now  took  her  aside 
and  spoke  with  her. 

"  I  hope  to  God  I  don't  get  it,"  he  said  ;  "  and  be- 
tween you  and  me,  Mr.  Slanning  hopes  so  too.  He 
wants  for  your  husband  to  get  in  —  now.  Something 
have  changed  him,  and  both  him  and  me,  on  the  quiet, 
have  been  trying  to  make  'em  vote  that  way.  But 
don't  you  breathe  a  word  about  it,  else  harm  might 
happen." 

"  What's  changed  him  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  can't  tell  you.  I  only  wish  he'd  known  his  mind 
sooner.  But  I've  let  everybody  I  could,  hear  that  I 
was  off  the  thing  and  didn't  wish  for  to  have  it.  So  I 
hope  the  day  will  go  against  me.  But  don't  tell  my 
wife,  or  I  should  never  hear  the  end  of  it." 

An  old  determination,  long  held  in  check,  reanimated 
Ilet  at  this  knowledge.  She  had  done  no  more  in  that 
matter,  after  Henny  Pierce's  advice,  and  yet  strong 
impulses  still  dragged  her  towards  Primrose.  She  felt 
that  with  her  might  lie  the  great  and  final  move ;  that  one 
woman  with  another  might  plead  to  good  purpose  upon 
such  a  case.  Here,  while  the  election  was  undecided 
—  now,  at  this  critical  stage  in  her  husband's  fortunes, 
seemed  the  properest  moment  for  an  attack.  She 
withstood  her  own  heart  no  longer,  and  set  out  for 
*  Slanning's '  an  hour  before  the  end  of  the  election. 
She  passed  her  home  and  saw  Dodd  still  in  the  garden. 
He  had  changed  his  mind,  resumed  his  work,  and  de- 
termined not  to  enter  the  village  until  the  election  was 
at  an  end.  He  was  digging  near  the  front  gate,  but 
she  took  care  that  he  should  not  see  her  as  she  passed. 

The  mill  was  nearly  two  miles  off,  and  befor*  Ilet 


432  THE   PORTREEVE 

had  gone  half  that  distance  the  rain  began  to  fall  heavily. 
It  wetted  her  shoulders  and  sunbonnet ;  but  she  was 
deep  in  thought  as  to  what  she  should  presently  say, 
and  had  no  mind  for  the  weather. 

A  man,  riding  fast,  came  round  a  corner  and  nearly 
ran  over  her.       She  leapt  aside,  and  he  stopped  and 

spoke. 

"  Not  hurt,  I  hope  ?  I'm  sorry,  but  you  must 
have  been  asleep,  I  should  think.  Hullo  !  It's  Mrs. 
Wolferstan  !  " 

The  speaker  was  Orlando  Slanning. 

"  My  fault,  sir,"  she  said.  "  I  didn't  ought  to  have 
been  in  the  middle  of  the  road  like  that." 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,  anyway.      Is  the  result  known  ?  " 

"Not  yet." 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Just  twelve  now.  Well,  look  here  —  lucky  I  met 
you.  I  hope  your  husband's  in.  You  stare,  but  it's 
true.  I  do  really.  As  a  sportsman  I  do.  For  the 
last  week  I've  wished  it.  Bartlett's  all  right,  but  he 
can't  sit  a  horse.     Be  hopeful.      I'll  bet  Wolferstan' s 


>> 
m. 


"  I   wish  you'd   thought  of  that  before,  Mr.  Slan- 

>> 
nmg. 

"  So  do  I ;  but  the  sporting  side  didn't  strike  me. 
Don't  you  say  a  word,  Mrs.  Wolferstan  ;  but  I've 
worked  harder  for  your  husband  this  week  —  on  the 
quiet,  you  know  —  than  I  did  against  him  before.  He 
must  be  in,  unless  a  good  many  men  have  told  me  lies. 
Where  are  you  going  now,  if  I  may  ask  ?  You  ought 
to  be  waiting  for  the  news."  « 

"  I'm  going  to  see  Mrs.  Slanning." 

"  The  deuce  you  are  !  " 

«  Yes  —  of  course  you  know  all  this  means.  It's  a 
delicate  thing  for  a  woman  to  say  to  you  —  yet  a  woman 
can  speak  to  another  woman." 


1 


I 


i 


IfT" 


i 


William  Taylor  Adams.    (Oliver  Optic.) 


THE    ELECTION  433 

"  Don't  say  you've  met  me  then,  or  repeat  what 
I've  just  said  to  you." 

"  I'll  say  nought,  but  only  beg  her  to  forgive  him." 

Orlando  looked  round  nervously. 

"You'll  fail,  I'm  afraid.  But  I  hope  she'll  yield. 
Mind,  not  a  syllable  of  what  I've  told  you.  She's  a 
wonderful  woman.  I  hope  to  God  you'll  bend  her, 
but  it's  not  very  likely.  There  are  some  things  a 
woman  can't  forgive.  He  treated  her  damned  badly, 
though  it's  hundreds  of  years  ago  now." 

"  I  can  but  ask  her.      He's  paid  a  heavy  price." 

"  He  can't  prove  that,  and  you've  no  right  to  say 
so.  It's  libel.  All  the  same,  I  see  how  things  look 
from  his  point  of  view.  I  don't  bear  him  any  ill-will. 
I  even  make  allowances  for  him.  He  always  snaps  at 
me  when  we  meet,  and  thinks  if  I  open  my  mouth  it  is 
to  insult  him  ;  but  you've  got  more  sense.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  I  don't  want  to  see  any  man  go  down  hill. 
You  can  judge  what  I  think  when  I  tell  you  I've 
actually  been  working  for  him  in  a  sportsmanlike  way. 
But  be  dumb  about  that,  if  you  want  to  keep  my 
friendship.  See  my  wife,  certainly.  She'll  very  likely 
say  you've  found  a  mare's  nest,  and  are  talking  non- 
sense ;  or  else  she  may  make  it  rather  unpleasant  for 
you.  You  must  stand  the  chance  of  that.  AH  depends 
on  her  mood.  She'll  be  very  sick  if  she  hears  Wolfer- 
stan's  got  in,  so  you'd  better  go  now,  before  the  news 
of  the  election  reaches  her.  Keep  me  out  of  it,  that's 
all.  I  can't  advise  you  what  the  deuce  to  say  to  her. 
But  be  civil.  As  a  friend  I  say  it.  She  won't  stand 
any  big  guns." 

"  I'm  coming  on  my  knees  to  her,"  said  Ilet;  "  I'm 
coming  to  pray  her  to  be  merciful  to  him,  and  not  ruin 
him  body  and  soul.  She  doesn't  know  or  guess  a 
thousandth  part  of  all  he's  suffered.     She " 

"Keep  thatj"  he  said;  "keep  that  for  her,  please. 

2V 


434  THE    PORTREEVE 

It's  infernally  unpleasant  to  me  to  hear  it.  I'm  a 
humane  man,  and  when  you  talk  of  ruin  to  body  and 
soul,  and  all  that,  it's  a  bit  beyond  me.  Go  —  and  — 
and  —  good  luck  !  " 

Again  he  looked  round  fearfully,  as  though  there 
might  be  an  eavesdropper  behind  the  hedge,  then  he 
shook  the  rain  from  his  hat,  struck  his  horse  and 
galloped  away,  while  Ilet,  deeply  impressed  by  these 
things,  proceeded  to  the  mill. 

The  mistress  of  '  Slanning's '  kept  her  waiting 
twenty  minutes.  But  when  she  appeared,  light  broke 
through  the  clouds,  and  Primrose  and  sunshine  entered 
together. 

The  miller's  wife  guessed  roughly  at  Ilet's  purpose. 
She  had  expected  such  a  visit  for  many  years.  Now 
she  doubted  not  that  Wolferstan  had  lost  the  election, 
and  that  this  last  straw  had  nerved  his  wife  to  approach 
and  beg  for  mercy. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Wolferstan.  You  are  a 
stranger  indeed.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you  r 

Ilet  surveyed  her  for  a  moment  without  answering. 
She  had  grown  stouter  and  rather  paler ;  but  she  was 
very  handsome  still. 

Primrose  returned  the  other's  straight  scrutiny, 
though  her  glances  were  indifferent  rather  than  inter- 
ested. She  sat  down  and  invited  Ilet  to  do  so.  Then 
she  asked  another  question. 

"  Is  the  result  of  the  election  for  Portreeve  known 
yet  ?  Your  husband,  I  hear,  wanted  to  take  up  the 
work  again." 

"'Twasn't  known  when   I    left  the  village.     Your 
man  will  get  in  most  like." 
"Mr.  Bartlett?" 
"Yes." 
"He's  younger  and  probably  more  energetic  and 


THE   ELECTION  435 

up-to-date  than  Mr.  Wolferstan.     We  get  a  little  lazy 
after  passing  forty." 

"  Not  all  of  us.  Not  you.  When  do  you  mean 
to  give  it  up  and  let  him  and  me  go  our  poor  way  in 
peace  ?      Haven't  you  done  enough  ?  " 

"  I'm  glad  you  understand.      It  saves  time." 

"  We've  fought  not  to  understand.  Year  after  year 
we've  tried  to  believe  'twas  chance,  not  your  will,  that 
seemed  to  wind  you  into  our  misfortunes.  But,  when 
any  bad  thing  happened  to  us,  we  had  only  to  look  to 
find  your  hand  in  it.  None  else  could  see  it;  but  we 
could.  And  even  then  I  tried  to  get  him  to  believe 
'twas  a  higher  Hand  than  yours  that  planned  our 
troubles  ;  and  sometimes,  with  his  great  faith  in  a  lov- 
ing God,  he  tried  to  believe  it  so ;  but  it  always  came 
down,  down  to  you.  This  last  stroke  has  cut  away 
the  ground  under  us.  We  can't  pretend  to  no  more 
blindness.  Nobody  —  not  even  the  man  himself — 
had  thought  of  Roger  Bartlett  for  Portreeve.  But 
'twas  your  plan  to  rise  him  up  against  us.  And  now, 
if  he  wins,  the  last  hope's  gone  for  my  man,  and. 
Christian  at  heart  though  he  is,  I  can't  tell  what  he'll  do." 

"  I  can  tell.  He'll  go  down,  as  he  always  does. 
He'll  not  try  to  hit  back.  That's  what  has  made  it 
so  dull  for  me  all  these  years.  Hunted  things  turn 
sooner  or  later.     Will  he  never  turn  ?  " 

"Yes,  they  turn  —  to  be  torn  to  pieces  —  that's  all. 
He  shan't  turn  if  I  can  help  it;  but  I  can't  help  it  no 
more.  I've  little  power  over  him  now.  You've  marred 
our  days  in  a  way  to  satisfy  even  you,  if  you  but 
knowed  it." 

"  What  would  he  think  if  he  heard  that  you  were 
here  ^     Or  can  it  be  that  he  sent  you  }  " 

"  He's  nought  to  do  with  it.  You  know  that  very 
well." 

"  I've  done  what  I  meant  to  do." 


436  THE    PORTREEVE 

"  Yes.  I'm  sorry  for  you.  I'm  sorry  that  you  were 
allowed  to  go  so  far  —  for  your  own  sake.  'Tis  a 
pitiful  record  to  take  along  with  you  :  to  hear  all  folk 
speak  well  of  you,  and  yet  know  of  the  filthy  hole  in 
your  heart  where  you've  harboured  this," 

"  You're  going  to  get  angry  now.  Quite  right  too. 
You  ought  to  be,  poor  woman." 

"  No,  I'm  not,  Primrose  Slanning.  I'm  only  here 
to  know  if  I  can  shake  you,  if  there's  anything  a  wife 
can  do  to  change  you.  What  more  do  you  want  ?  I 
know  all  about  what  happened  years  ago,  and  the 
thing  he  did.  I  know  you  wanted  my  husband  for 
your  own,  and  that  you  almost  got  him  to  promise  to 
marry  you." 

"  It  was  done.  Did  he  ever  tell  you  that  he  had 
kissed  me  ?  If  your  first  husband  had  died  in  that 
quarry,  or  met  with  his  accident  five  minutes  later, 
Dodd   Wolferstan    would    be    my   husband    now   and 

filling  my  father's  place.     On  such  slight  chances  hang 

I>> 
ives. 

"  'Tis  granted  that  he  did  very  wrong ;  but  hasn't 
he  paid  ?  If  you  knowed  how  he's  paid,  even  you 
might  pity." 

"  *  Pity  ! '  But  the  sport's  growing  poor  —  I  confess 
that.  I'm  going  to  stop  ;  and  I'll  tell  you  why  :  it 
will  hurt  him  more  now  if  he  knows  he  is  not  worth 
hunting  —  if  I  ignore  him  as  a  thing  beneath  further 
notice  —  than  if  I  go  on  !  I  haven't  left  him  much 
—  except  you  —  have  I?  A  laughing-stock  —  a  by- 
word.    D'you  deny  it?     Then  —  what  have  I  left?" 

I  let's  eyes  flashed  her  hatred  and  her  voice  hissed. 

"  That's  what  I  know  and  you  do  not,  you  evil 
wretch  !  He's  got  that  that  even  you  can't  take  from 
him  still." 

"Not  religion  —  don't  fool  yourself  to  think  it. 
The  proof  of  religion  is  in  living.      Look  at  him  1 " 


THE    ELECTION 


437 


Ilet  remained  silent.  She  saw  that  Primrose  was 
unchangeable,  and  that  she  had  guessed  the  truth. 

"  His  religion's  cankered  —  it's  rotting  away  and  you 
know  it,"  the  other  continued.  "  So  does  everybody 
know  it.  That  was  the  last  —  last  word  I  swore  against 
him.  Yet  now  —  because  there's  nothing  else  to  do 
that  he  won't  do  himself,  I'll  stop.  Don't  dream  he's 
ever  going  to  make  you  a  happy  wife.  It's  too  late 
for  that." 

"  He's  made  me  a  happy  wife,  and  a  proud  one,  for 
twelve  years." 

"  You  were  a  deal  too  good  for  him.  I  see  now 
what's  kept  him  going  so  long.  It  was  hard  work, 
wasn't  it?  Well,  go  and  comfort  yourself — if  there's 
any  comfort  in  it  —  by  thinking  that  I've  done  with 
him.  The  little  good  in  him  has  gone  past  calling 
back.  I'll  forget  him  now.  I'll  let  him  go  —  what's 
left  of  him.  If  you  can  make  him  a  respectable  figure 
again,  you're  a  cleverer  woman  than  I  take  you  for." 

"  You're  not  afraid  to  say  these  things  ?  " 

"Not  I.  What  is  there  to  fear?  Even  the  bal- 
ance of  justice  would  be  on  my  side.  If  I  died  to- 
morrow, what's  the  record  in  the  book  ?  I've  done 
harm  to  one  man  and  good  to  fifty.  Charity's  God's 
strong  point,  isn't  it?  It  covers  a  multitude  of  sins. 
I  only  ask  it  to  cover  one  !  I'm  a  most  religious  per- 
son—  so's  my  husband." 

"You've  promised,"  answered  Ilet.  "That's  all 
I  want  from  you.  A  time  will  come  when  you'll  see 
your  awful  wickedness." 

They  rose  together. 

"  It's  been  perfectly  clear  to  me  for  years.  But  who 
has  no  dear  little  pet  sin  and  hides  the  key  of  the  cup- 
board ?  We  all  have  one  lust  that  we  let  everything 
else  go  for.  We're  all  virtuous  south  and  east,  that 
we  may  the  better  be  vicious  north  and  west.     You 


438  THE    PORTREEVE 

know  that  well  enough.  Everybody  knows  it.  Who 
would  believe  now,  that  such  a  clean-living,  charitable, 
God-fearing  creature  as  I  could  swear  with  myself  to 
wreck  a  man  body  and  soul  —  and  do  it?  Why,  none. 
And  none  ever  will.  They  wouldn't  believe  me  myself. 
They  certainly  wouldn't  believe  you.  You  —  his  own 
wife  —  couldn't  believe  it  at  first.  But  he's  free  now. 
You've  won.  Take  back  the  dregs  of  a  man  and  do 
what  you  can  with  them  to  sweeten  them.  I've  sucked 
him  dry.  Every  possibility  of  good  has  gone  out  of 
him  —  torn  out  by  me." 

"  Your  time  will  come." 

"  Of  course.  And  I  shall  make  a  very  nice  end 
here,  and  a  very  satisfactory  beginning  hereafter. 
Doesn't  justice  demand  it  ?  How  many  women  will 
have  done  more  good  according  to  their  power  ? " 

They  had  now  reached  the  front  door,  and  Ilet, 
hastening  through  it,  departed ;  whilst  Primrose  stood 
still  and  watched  her.  Then  Mrs.  Slanning  descended 
the  steps  and  walked  in  her  garden.  She  moved 
presently  beside  the  mill.  The  dam  was  down  and  the 
wheel  motionless.  Blossoms  of  iris  and  meadowsweet 
were  dead  and  gone  ;  the  water  moved  darkly,  sun-shot 
with  amber  light ;  and  on  its  face  blood-red  cherry 
leaves  were  floating.  The  stream  made  a  hiss  and 
splash  where  it  spouted  from  a  hole  in  the  dam.  A 
robin  sat  on  the  mill-wheel  and  sang.  The  wind 
puffed  at  his  little  feathers,  spun  the  falling  leaves, 
ruffled  the  leat  with  sudden  multitudinous  wavelets,  and 
scattered  the  red  and  gold  of  orchards  upon  the  sodden 
grasses.  The  air  was  sweet  with  the  savour  of  all  this 
fruit,  while  the  sun  shone  watery  and  the  clouds  flew  fast. 


CHAPTER   XVII 


*  IN  AT   THE    DEATH* 


DICKY  BARKELL  obeyed  Slannlngand  kept  his 
secret  very  strictly.  Therefore  none  knew  that 
the  miller  had  changed  his  mind  and  was  favour- 
ing Dodd  upon  the  morning  of  the  election.  Thus  it 
happened  that  in  certain  critical  moments  now  upon 
him,  Wolferstan  acted  under  misapprehension. 

After  Slanning  passed  Ilet,  he  rode  on  into  Bridget- 
stowe,  and  Dodd  had  just  left  his  house  to  go  in  the 
same  direction,  when  he  saw  Orlando  ride  by. 

The  horseman  observed  him  and  waved  his  crop, 
but  Wolferstan  resented  the  salute  and  took  no  notice 
of  it. 

Slanning  disappeared  and  Dodd  went  slowly  along 
the  same  road.  Roger  Bartlett's  home  stood  not  far 
distant  beside  the  highway,  and  presently  he  passed  it. 
But  nobody  was  stirring  there.  Wolferstan  hesitated 
at  the  door,  then  tramped  forward.  The  road  was 
empty.  He  heard  the  clock  at  Bridgetstowe  strike 
twelve.  The  sound  turned  his  mind  for  a  moment  to 
the  church,  and,  from  the  church,  to  the  monuments 
within  it.  Upon  the  stress  and  fever  of  this  hour  the 
cenotaph  of  Lady  Honor  Wolferstan  inaptly  thrust 
itself.  He  found  himself  repeating  aimlessly,  again 
and  again,  the  opening  rhyme  of  the  memorial :  — 

"  Eight  fruitful  branches  still  are  springing  sound. 
Though  here  the  root  lies  dead  within  the  ground." 

439 


440 


THE    PORTREEVE 


No  fruitful  branches  would  spring  from  him. 

The  noise  of  voices  far  off  reached  his  ear.  There 
was  shouting  and  cheering,  and  the  wind  brought  the 
sound  faintly  to  him.  He  knew  that  the  result  of  the 
election  had  been  declared  and  the  figures  announced. 
For  a  moment  he  stopped ;  then  he  went  on  again. 
The  distant  acclamations  fitted  into  the  verse  that  had 
thus  strangely  intruded  upon  his  thoughts  :  — 

"  Eight  fruitful  branches " 

He  turned  his  back  on  Bridgetstowe  and  began  to 
walk  home  again.  He  supposed  that  Ilet  had  gone  to 
the  village  and  would  presently  bring  the  tidings  of 
success  or  failure.  He  wore  his  broadcloth  and  now 
found  himself  regretting  that  he  had  been  at  the  trouble 
of  putting  it  on.  The  distant  noise  ceased.  The  sun 
shone  out  suddenly.  Then  in  the  stillness,  there  came 
quick  feet  running.  They  were  too  light  for  a  man, 
and  he  thought  it  must  be  Ilet.  But  turning,  he  saw 
a  boy,  and  knew  that  it  was  Roger  Bartlett's  eldest 
son.  Bartlett  had  four  children  —  was  he  to  have 
everything  ? 

Did  the  boy  run  now  to  tell  his  father  of  success? 
It  appeared  so,  for  the  youngster  slowed  his  pace  and 
indicated  concern  at  sight  of  Dodd. 

"Hullo,  Samuel  !  You'm  from  Bridgetstowe  —  eh? 
And  going  hot-foot.  You  wouldn't  be  running  so 
fast  if  your  news  was  bad.      Is  your  father  Portreeve  ? " 

"Yes,  please,  sir: — excuse  me  for  telling  you,  Mr. 
Wolferstan.  I  comed  as  near  the  people  as  I  could. 
Then,  just  after  twelve,  there  was  shouting  and  I  heard 
faither's  name  named  by  Mr.  Mudford  in  the  crowd. 
So  I  thinks  ' 'tis  faither  must  have  got  it '  —  if  you'll 
excuse  me." 

The  rhyme  ran  on  in  Wolferstan's  head,  and  he 
stared  at  this  boy  and  spoke. 

"  '  Eight  fruitful  branches  still  are  springing  sound,'  " 


'IN   AT   THE    DEATH' 


441 


he  said.  Then  he  broke  off  and  addressed  Samuel. 
"Run  along  —  run,  can't  'e  ?  Get  out  of  my  sight 
anyhow." 

The  boy  fled.  The  sky  grew  darker  and  the  rain 
brushed  down  over  the  hedges. 

Wolferstan  stood  still  for  a  moment,  then  he  con- 
tinued his  walk  homeward.  As  he  reached  his  gate  a 
galloping  horse  overtook  him,  and  he  saw  Orlando 
Slanning.  Passion  got  hold  upon  him  and  he  fought 
hard  with  it.  Again  Slanning  raised  his  stock  and 
shouted.  For  a  moment  Dodd  turned  to  enter  his 
house.  Then  he  saw  his  spade  beside  a  piece  of  un- 
finished work  and  stopped.  He  took  off  his  coat 
slowly  and  hung  it  on  an  apple  tree.  Then  he  picked 
up  the  spade  and  thrust  it  into  the  earth.  He  had 
turned  a  sod  when  Slanning  dismounted.  A  moment 
later  the  miller  hitched  his  horse  to  the  fence  and 
swaggered  up  the  pathway,  grinning  cheerfully.  This 
triumph  paraded  to  his  face  infuriated  the  other.  He 
turned  with  a  flaming  countenance,  and  his  voice, 
escaping  control,  ran  up  and  cracked. 

"  Out  of  this,  you  devil  !  or  I'll  break  your  neck ! 
You'd  dare  to  come  inside  my " 

Slanning  appreciated  danger,  but  perceived  that  it 
rested  on  the  other's  ignorance.  Yet  for  a  moment  he 
dallied  with  the  truth,  that  its  force  might  come  with  a 
grander  stroke.  Still  he  grinned  and  ignored  Wolfer- 
stan's  obvious  fury. 

"  Hold  on  !  Don't  roar  like  a  bull  of  Bashan,  I 
thought  you'd  like  to  know  that  Roger  Bartlett  — 
hasn't " 

He  stopped  and  leapt  back  for  his  life  ;  but  he  was 
too  late.  Wolferstan's  answer  came  in  a  blow,  delivered 
with  both  hands  and  a  heavy  spade  held  edgewise. 
Slanning's  uplifted  arm  broke  the  stroke  and  itself  was 
broken,  but  force  enough  remained  to  send  the  iron 


442  THE   PORTREEVE 

through  his  hard  hat  and  on  to  his  skull.     He  screamed, 
flung  up  his  arms,  and  fell. 

The  horse  at  the  gate,  frightened  by  the  noise, 
dragged  at  its  rein  and  kicked.  From  the  house  Henny 
Pierce  and  her  grand-daughter  came  running. 

"  There  he  is  !  "  cried  Wolferstan.  "  He's  brought 
himself  to  that,  and  me  to  this." 

There  was  a  shout  at  the  gate  and  Johnny  Ball,  his 
brother,  and  half-a-dozen  other  men  appeared.  They 
were  hot  and  breathless  with  haste.  They  saw  Wolfer- 
stan, but  not  the  man  at  his  feet,  for  Slanning  lay  half 
hidden  by  cabbages. 

"  Has  'e  told  'e  —  Mr.  Slanning  ?  "  shouted  Tommy 
Ball.  "  He  galloped  along  with  all  his  might  to  bring 
the  news." 

"  You'm  Portreeve,  you'm  Portreeve  ;  an'  if  you'll 
wet  our  whistles,  we'll  shout  it  the  louder,"  cried  a 
Bridgetstowe  man. 

The  boy  Samuel  had  erred.  Misled  by  the  sound 
of  his  father's  name  before  the  announcement  of  the 
figures,  he  had  rushed  off  too  soon.  Wolferstan  proved 
the  winner,  with  forty-five  votes  more  than  his  neigh- 
bour out  of  a  total  poll  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-three. 

"  And  I  do  beheve  as  Mr.  Slanning  will  be  glad 
you've  got  it,  Dodd.     Did  he  tell  'e  ?  " 

"Come  in  —  come  in  all.  Here  he  is !  'Tis  a 
lesson,  souls,  to  say  what  you  mean  and  not  play  the 
fool  with  a  desperate  man.  He  came  grinning  here, 
just  after  I'd  heard  as  t'other  was  in.  He  named 
t'other  hisself,  and,  afore  he'd  got  further  —  look  at 
him  —  he'll  cackle  no  more  —  eh  ?  Dead  —  eh  ? 
Turn  him  over,  Tom." 

The  horrified  men  crowded  round  Orlando  and, 
when  they  spoke  again,  Wolferstan  had  disappeared. 

Ball  ran  to  the  gate  and  reported  that  he  was  hasten- 
ing along  the  road. 


'IN   AT   THE   DEATH'  443 

"  He's  off  to  '  Slanning's,*  "  said  Henny  Pierce. 
"  He'll  make  a  clean  job  of  it.  Oh,  my  God,  can't 
nobody  stop  him  ?  " 

"  This  here's  our  business,"  answered  Johnny  Ball. 
"  Let  the  Lord  look  after  yonder  man.  We'm  all 
his  tools.  'Tis  for  us  to  take  this  poor  gentleman  to 
the  cottage  hospital  so  quick  as  we  are  able.  Doctor 
Hext  was  over  this  morning,  and  if  one  amongst  us 
runs  back  to  Bridgetstowe,  we  may  catch  him  at  his 
room  afore  he's  off." 

"I'll  go,"  said  Thomas  Ball;  "and  I'll  make  so 
bold  as  to  ride  on  the  poor  gentleman's  hoss,  so  as 
I'll  get  back  the  quicker.  There's  no  harm  in  it  — 
eh,  John? " 

"  'Tis  quite  allowable  and  to  be  pardoned,  seeing 
he'm  at  death's  door  —  or  through  it,"  answered  his 
brother.  "  Gallop,  Tom  ;  and  if  Mr.  Hext  be  gone, 
just  go  after  him.  Nobody  but  a  doctor  can  say  if  he's 
alive  or  dead." 

Tommy  Ball  soon  trotted  off,  and  lost  all  sense  of 
trouble  in  the  immense  pleasure  of  being,  for  the  first 
and  last  time  in  his  life,  on  a  valuable  horse. 

The  others  drew  a  light  cart  from  a  shed,  lifted 
Slanning  into  it  and,  since  no  steed  was  to  be  found, 
pulled  it  along  the  road  to  Bridgetstowe  themselves. 
Under  the  unconscious  sufferer's  head  were  pillows 
placed  there  by  Henny  Pierce. 

Meantime  Wolferstan  hastened  towards  '  Slanning's.' 
All  that  was  in  his  mind  he  could  not  have  told. 
Barriers  were  down  and  floodgates  up.  The  hurricane 
swept  his  soul.  One  purpose  alone  held  fast :  to  see 
Primrose  Slanning  and  tell  her  that  he  had  killed  her 
husband.  Something  near  insanity  lighted  his  face ; 
and  when  Ilet,  moving  homeward,  was  confronted 
with  this  human  storm,  she  indeed  thought  that  her 
husband  was  mad.     She  doubted  not  that  he  had  lost 


444  THE    PORTREEVE 

the  election,  and  felt  thankful  that  to  her  he  had  come 
in  his  tribulation. 

"  Why,  Dodd  — "  she  began  ;  then  he  cut  her 
short. 

"  You  can't  stop  me  now  —  none  can't.  Stand  out 
of  the  way.     It's  all  over.     It's  all  up  with  him." 

"  Dodd  —  Dodd  —  stop  !  You  shan't  go  on.  Wh?t 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I'm  Portreeve —  Portreeve  of  Bridgets  to  we  !  They 
put  me  in.  But  'twas  too  late.  Get  off,  Ilet !  Don't 
hang  on  my  arm.     I'm  going  to  tell  her." 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  Done  for  him  —  and  would  again.  I've  gazed  on 
his  damned  smug  face  too  often.  Now  he'll  go  down 
into  the  pit.  Nobody  shall  tell  her  but  me.  And 
none  after  him  —  for  there's  no  children." 

"  He  was  your  friend  —  oh,  Dodd,  he  meant  well  to 
you.     I  saw  him  and  he  hoped  you'd  get  in." 

"  None  after  him  —  a  sterile  man.  God  don't  want 
no  more  of  his  breed  —  nor  yet  of  hers.  *  Eight  fruit- 
ful branches '     He  'meant  me  well'!     You  to 

talk  that  foolishness  !  " 

"  Come  back  !  —  come  back  with  me.  You're  not 
yourself,  dear  Dodd." 

"Yes,  I  am  —  we  all  are  that.  I've  heard  Dicky 
tell  as  we  can't  escape  ourselves.  This  was  waiting 
for  me  all  these  years.  I  wish  I'd  given  heed  to 
Dicky  more  and  my  God  less.  He's  thrown  me  over. 
Here  I  stand,  bloody  to  the  eyes,  and  His  back  be 
turned  upon  me.  Not  a  thought  for  me  —  an'  never 
had — never  had.  BHnd  and  deaf  as  the  stone  gods 
of  the  heathen  men." 

"  Don't  —  don't  say  these  awful  things.  *Tis  a 
dream." 

"  If  'tis  a  dream,  I  won*t  wake  yet.  He  meant 
well  under  his  noise  and  bluster  and  bitter  speeches ! 


(.C 

a 


'IN   AT   THE   DEATH*  445 

Did  he  so  ?  Then  what  about  her  —  that  she-devil  to 
the  mill?  Did  she  mean  well  too?  'Tis  her  work  — 
not  mine  —  all  hers.  Then  she  shall  get  her  payment. 
No  more  husbands  for  her —  not  another.  She  might 
bring  children  by  another  man  —  breed  devils  —  as  if 
there  weren't  enough.      Let  go  !  " 

Dodd  —  never!     While  I  can  hold  you,  I  will." 
Do  you  want  me  to  put  you  out  o'  the  way  too  ? 
Face  it  —  he's  gone  —  I've  killed  him  —  cut  his  empty 
fool's  head  open.     And  is  she  going  to  be  left  ?     No  ! 

—  'twas  meant  for  me  to  end  her,  and  her  to  end  me. 
That  was  my  God's  merry  game  !  He's  not  blind  nor 
deaf  though  I  said  he  was.  .  .  .  He's  heard  all  .  .  . 
seen  all  .  .  .  laughed  at  all.  Her  time  will  come 
first,  and  mine  after." 

She  clung  to  him  and  raised  a  loud  cry  for  help. 
They  were  now  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  '  Slanning's,* 
and  one  heard  that  cry  and  started  and  strained  her 
ears. 

Primrose  In  her  garden  listened,  but  the  sound  was 
not  repeated  ;  for  Wolferstan  —  maddened  by  it  and 
now  beyond  self-control — flung  Ilet  off  heavily,  then 
started  again  towards  the  mill. 

His  wife,  however,  was  but  little  hurt  and  quickly 
returned  to  him.    She  had  wounded  her  face  in  falling. 

"  Listen,  for  all  the  past,  Dodd  —  listen  to  me  !  — 
Oh  God,  make  him  listen  —  You  that  he's  obeyed  and 
worshipped!  I  —  I  ask  you,  Dodd  —  you  that  led 
me  to  God,  now  let  me  bring  you  back  —  back  to  Him 
afore  the  time's  past." 

"  The  time  be  past.  I've  killed  her  husband,  yet 
not  I,  but  her.  'Tis  her  work.  Ban't  a  murderess  to 
be  punished  ?  All  the  angels  in  heaven  won't  keep 
me  off  that  woman  now.  .  .  .     I'm  God's  servant  yet 

—  so  much  as  any  man.  ...  I  be  here  to  do  the 
dirty  work  of  my  God,  and  all  hell  won't  save  her. 


446  THE    PORTREEVE 

These  hands  on  her  throat  —  the  last  and  best  job  as 
ever  they'll  do.  I'll  not  spoil  the  work.  I'll  do  it 
same  as  I've  done  all  things  —  with  my  might.  There's 
the  place,  and — look  —  there's  the  woman  !  .  .  »  Her 
Maker's  brought  her  !  " 

A  hundred  yards  in  front  of  them  stood  the  gate  of 
the  mill,  and  behind  it  was  Primrose  Slanning.  She 
still  listened  for  a  repetition  of  the  distant  cry. 

Now  Wolferstan  began  to  run  very  swiftly  and  Ilet 
was  distanced.  For  a  moment  Primrose  watched  with 
growing  excitement.  Then  the  man's  gestures  and 
terrific  face  spoke  of  instant  peril.  She  stepped  back 
a  pace  instinctively.  Her  lips  tightened,  but  she  did 
not  lose  her  nerve.  He  appeared  to  be  out  of  his 
mind,  and  clearly  meant  her  harm.  She  heard  him 
roar  ;  then  Ilet's  voice  travelled  to  her  quicker  than 
the  approaching  man. 

"  Run,  for  God's  sake  !  He'll  kill  you  if  he  catches 
you ! 

Primrose  had  once  escaped  by  a  hair's  breadth  from 
a  bad-tempered  bull  on  her  father's  farm.  She  remem- 
bered the  incident  now.  Fifty  yards  separated  her 
from  the  mill  door,  and  it  was  shut  but  not  locked. 
She  calculated  that  she  would  have  time  to  reach  it  and 
ascend  the  step  within.  Once  aloft  amid  the  machinery, 
she  might  escape  him.  There  was  no  other  hope. 
But  the  man  came  very  fast  and  had  nearly  reached  the 
gate  when  she  began  to  run.  She  dropped  her  hat, 
kept  her  eyes  on  the  mill  door  and  made  the  best  speed 
possible  towards  it.  Before  her  towered  the  huge  black 
wheel  against  the  wall  of  the  mill ;  the  door  was  in 
an  immediate  line  with  her.  She  heard  Wolferstan 
vault  the  gate.  He  was  over  in  an  instant,  and  she 
had  no  time  to  latch  the  door  again  after  passing  through, 
for  he  reached  it  a  moment  after  her  and  forced  it 
open. 


«IN   AT   THE   DEATH'  447 

Now  she  was  halfway  up  the  stairs,  while  he  stood 
at  the  bottom.  He  leapt  up  and  every  moment  she 
expected  to  feel  his  hand  on  her  dress  and  find  herself 
dragged  backward.  Only  by  exercise  of  will  and  ut- 
most dexterity  of  body  did  she  escape.  Once  his  hand 
actually  reached  her  skirt,  but  she  tore  it  free ;  the 
abortive  effort,  making  him  miss  a  stair,  threw  him  back 
a  pace ;  and  the  slip  saved  her. 

At  the  top,  in  a  great  chamber  dusted  with  white 
flour,  yet  dark  by  reason  of  the  little  light,  she  crossed 
a  plank  that  spanned  a  chasm  ;  she  crossed  and  then 
dislodged  the  plank  just  as  his  foot  was  on  it. 

Now  for  a  moment  she  breathed  again.  The  gap 
was  too  great  for  him  to  leap,  and  only  by  climbing  to 
the  rafters  or  trusting  himself  in  the  machinery,  could 
Wolferstan  now  reach  her.  She  panted  furiously  and 
held  her  left  hand  hard  to  her  heart;  but  her  right 
hand  rose  to  a  lever  in  the  wall,  and  her  steady  eyes 
were  not  off  him  for  a  moment. 

He  stood  and  glared  and  panted ;  then  he  began  to 
creep  across  to  her. 

"  You're  done  for,"  he  said.  "  You're  a  murderess, 
and  your  cup's  full.  Your  husband's  dead.  I've 
killed  him  and  I'm  sent  to  finish  you." 

He  had  left  the  firm  flooring  and  was  working  his 
way  across  movable  machinery. 

"  Go  back !  "  she  cried,  "  or  I'll  start  the  mill !  " 

His  only  answer  was  to  come  the  quicker. 

She  saw  that  her  own  safety  must  involve  his  de- 
struction, and  did  not  hesitate.  He  was  halfway  across 
now  and  would  have  reached  her  in  a  few  moments. 
Therefore  she  pulled  the  lever  swiftly,  opened  the 
sluice  and  set  moving  the  mighty  wheel  without.  Then 
she  turned  a  handle  and  the  mill  began  to  work. 
A  strange  life  suddenly  made  itself  manifest  amid  the 
inert,  huge  wheels  and  arms  of  wood  and  iron.     A  hum 


448  THE   PORTREEVE 

and  rumble,  as  of  some  monster  awaking,  fell  upon  the 
ear.  The  place  trembled ;  the  sleeping  dust  rose. 
Wolferstan's  foothold  slid  away  from  beneath  him,  and 
he  was  borne  downward.  He  stretched  up  his  arms  to 
clutch  other  bars,  and  they  held  him  up  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. Then  a  descending  beam  struck  his  shoulder 
and  swept  him  away.  He  fell  and  was  caught  and 
pinned  through  one  awful  second.  Then  the  mass 
that  held  him  rose  again  and  he  dropped  twenty  feet 
into  the  darkness.  So  Primrose  had  seen  a  spider 
drop  from  a  wall  when  tapped  with  a  shoe. 

A  single  cry  broke  through  the  throb  and  thunder  ; 
but  it  was  Wolferstan's  wife  who  uttered  it.  She  stood 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs  in  time  to  see  her  husband 
destroyed. 

Primrose  stopped  the  mill 


i 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

A    GOOD    year's    work. 

ABNER  BARKELL  and  his  ancient  friend,  Ned 
Ferryman,  walked  together  from  worship  on  a 
day  in  early  January.  They  had  not  met  since 
Christmas,  and  now,  in  a  mood  chastened  by  the 
advent  of  another  year,  they  discussed  events  and 
reviewed  the  past. 

A  dry,  bright  day  reigned  over  the  naked  earth; 
easterly,  clean  cut  and  stern  of  aspect,  the  changeless 
hills  rose  into  a  pale  blue  sky. 

"  A  good  year's  work  for  the  nation  —  except  here 
and  there,"  said  Mr.  Ferryman.  "  I'm  keeping  won- 
derful well  for  up  fourscore,  an'  you'm  on  your  pins 
again." 

"  Though  it  have  been  a  cruel  downfall  to  me  to 
give  up  malt  liquor." 

"  No  doubt ;  but  doctor  knows  best.  You'll  get 
used  to  spirits,  though  'tis  granted  they  ban't  so  hold- 
ing or  so  full  in  the  mouth.  Still,  a  good  year,  if  you 
take  a  large  view." 

Abner  nodded. 

"  I  must  grant  it  in  reason,"  he  said.  "  The  bridge 
had  two  coats  and  the  weather  kept  fine  all  the  time. 
Taking  the  large  view,  as  you  say,  Ned,  —  a  very 
favourable  year.  The  hay  was  good,  the  corn  was 
good,   and   the  roots  middling." 

"  And  we've  finished  fighting  the  foreigners." 

"And  my  sea-going  sons  have  been  home  ;  and  I've 

2G  449 


45° 


THE   PORTREEVE 


seen  'em  both  once  more ;  and  one's  raised  to  a  petty 
officer.  Then  your  grand-darter's  married  that  young, 
earnest  man,  Johnny  Ball,  who's  took  to  preaching  on 
Sundays.  But  she  can  preach  to  him  week-days,  so 
'twill  be  all  one." 

"  Not  but  what  there's  been  trouble  here  an'  there." 

"  A  plenty  without  a  doubt.  An'  among  friends 
too.  There  was  the  end  of  Dodd  Wolferstan  —  cut 
off  like  a  mad  dog,  poor  soul  !  Though  what  set  his 
wits  roaming  the  very  day  they  made  Portreeve  of 
him,  only  God  knows." 

"  All  the  same,  a  good  few  others  thought  they 
knowed." 

"  'Twas  a  very  far-reaching  tragedy.  Dang  my  old 
wig,  but  I  never  heard  the  like." 

"  How  be  Mr.  Slanning  now  ?  " 

"  He's  one  of  the  Lord's  chosen  evermore  —  won't 
never  get  well  again.  The  wits  are  out  of  him.  Some 
said  he  hadn't  much  to  lose ;  but,  for  my  part,  I 
thought  him  a  very  sensible,  useful  man  after  marriage. 
However,  the  intellects  be  gone  for  good.  He  rides 
a  hobby-horse  like  a  boy,  an'  thinks  he  be  out  fox- 
hunting." 

"God's  a  marvel  !  " 

"True  for  you,  Ned.  And  the  man's  wife  worse 
than  a  widow ;  but  she've  taken  it  in  a  very  high 
Christian  spirit.  A  masterpiece  for  good  works,  they 
tell  me.     Father  and  husband  both  gone  in  a  year." 

"  The  wrong  people  always  die  —  to  say  it  in  a 
prayerful  spirit,  Barkell." 

"  Not  all  —  so  long  as  you  an'  me  keep  trotting." 

"  You  will  have  your  bit  of  fun,  I  see.  And  1  hear 
Ilet  have  wrote  out  the  words  for  the  stone-mason  with 
her  own  hands.  The  man  was  up  over  forty  when  he 
died.  And  he'm  to  be  called  Portreeve  of  Bridget- 
stowe  upon  his  stone.     So  he  was,  and  so  he  was  on 


A   GOOD   YEAR'S   WORK  451 

the  day  of  his  death,  so  'twill  be  solemn  truth  and 
quite  in  order  to  put  it  like  that  for  after  generations. 
'Twill  lift  his  memory  a  thought  higher  than  the  com- 
mon dust  where  his  parents  lie." 

"  And  she's  settled  with  Mrs.  Pierce  ?  " 

"  She  have.  She  might  marry  again  and  no  harrh 
done ;  but  I  reckon  she've  had  her  dose  of  husbands, 
and  won't  take  another.  Old  Henny  gets  help  from 
Mrs.  Slanning,  but  she's  secret  as  the  grave  about  it 
and  very  cunning,  because  she  thinks  that  Ilet  would 
refuse  if  she  got  wind." 

"  Well,  he  was  a  good  sort  of  man,  and  a  kind  one," 
said  Ned.  "  I  can't  say  I  knew  him  well,  but  I  always 
stuck  up  for  him  when  folk  said  harsh  words  against 
him." 

"  He  was  a  very  good  sort  of  man  in  many  ways," 
admitted  Abner.  "  And  light-hearted  in  his  youth. 
He  did  a  plenty  proper  deeds  in  his  prosperous  days, 
for  sheer  joy  and  gladness —  like  the  bird  sings." 

"He  was  a  great  worker  among  the  boys,  and  put 
many  a  young  youth  on  the  right  road." 

"  He  had  a  hope  to  raise  his  head  in  the  land,  but 
things  fell  contrary.  If  a  man's  temper  goes,  'tis  all 
over." 

"  It  wrecked  him ;  and  yet  us  must  think  of  charity 
and  say  'twas  the  breakdown  of  his  mind  that  came 
between  him  and  success.  Well,  here's  your  way  — 
here's  mine.  I  wish  you  a  very  happy  New  Year,  and 
as  many  more  of  'em  as  the  Almighty  wills.' 

"  An'  same  to  you,  Ned." 

"  To  your  son  Richard,  likewise.  What  a  piece  he 
is  !  I  met  un  t'other  day  wi'  his  face  down,  pawking 
along  as  if  time  was  eternity  —  staring  at  the  river,  he 
was." 

"  He  mourned  over  Wolferstan's  end  a  good  deal 
more  than  you'd  have  guessed.     Tried  to  hide  it,  too. 


452  THE   PORTREEVE 

I  hoped  'twould  have  made  a  Christian  of  him,  but  it 
didn't." 

"  I  like  your  boy's  sweet  fooling  better  than  his 
bitter.  He  gived  Jane  a  golden  sovereign  when  she 
was  married.  'Twas  a  very  gentlemanlike  thing  to  do, 
and  I  shan't  forget  it  —  more  won't  Johnny  Ball.  In 
fact,  Johnny  says  he'll  convert  the  man  yet  —  the  Lord 
helping." 

"  'Tis  a  curious  breakdown  of  mind.  The  only  one 
of  my  family  as  I  can  ever  remember  as  was  touched." 

"  He've  got  any  amount  of  patience  wi'  man,  but 
none  wi'  God,  seemingly." 

"'Tis  wonderful  the  patience  God  have  got  with 
him,  Ned." 

Old  Ferryman,  from  the  snowy  summit  of  eighty 
years,  smiled  hopefully. 

"An'  wi'  us  all,  wi'  us  all,  neighbour." 


THE    END 


i 


MY  DEVON  YEAR 

By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 
Author  of  "  The  American  Prisoner,"  etc. 

Tbirty-eight  Sketches  whose  subjects  are  the  different  aspects  wider  which  the 

author  has  known  the  special  loveliness  of  the  IVest 

Count/y,  along  the  Dart  and  Exe. 

Illustrated  with  Thirty-eight  Plates  in  Tint 

Cloth  Crown  8vo  $2.00 

"  Mr.  Phillpotts  has  given  us  a  delightful  book  of  the  Devon  landscape  in  these 
sketches,  which  we  can  take  up  in  an  idle  moment,  and  enjoy  in  or  out  of  sequence. 
.  .  .    There  are  many  readers  to  whom  their  repose  and  placidity  will  appeal." 

—  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  Nothing  else  that  he  has  written  reveals  more  surely  his  strength,  imagination, 

and  poetic  insight  into  nature  and  life.     It  is  one  of  the  books  the  many  will  read, 

and  that  kindred  spirits  will  love."  ^r.     r,        j  n      ,j 

^  —  The  Record-Herald. 

"  Any  one  can  admire  a  fine  '  view.'  But  to  see  all  that  there  is  to  see  on  a  dull 
November  day  along  a  quiet  country  road,  to  get  the  infinite  play  of  light  and 
shade,  the  multitudinous  variations  of  color  in  the  landscape  that  passes  for  'grey' 
—  that  is  another  matter.  Again,  it  is  easier  to  see  these  things  than  to  describe 
them.  Many  worthy  votaries  of  nature  have  been  insufferably  dull  in  writing  about 
her.  This  pitfall  Mr.  Phillpotts  certainly  escapes.  .  .  .  One  reads  on  and  on,  and 
at  the  end  the  picture  is  clearly  etched  on  the  imagination." 

—  Tke  Providence  Journal, 

"  No  reader  of  Mr.  Phillpotts's  Devonshire  romances  can  ignore  the  author's 
intense  love  of  nature  or  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  Devon's  heaths,  dunes, 
lakes,  and  rivers.  This  love  and  this  intimacy  are  fully  and  in  a  true  sense  poeti- 
cally expressed  in  the  score  or  more  papers  here  included."        j^^  Outlook 

"  It  is  as  sympathetic  and  as  sane  an  interpretation  of  nature  as  may  be  found 
among  the  constantly  increasing  number  of  books  that  have  to  do  with  wood  and 
field,  with  earth  and  sky,  with  wind  and  wave."  y-^  Public  Ledger 

"  Alive  with  fine  sympathy  and  quiet  interpretation  of  the  outdoor  world  .  .  . 
the  wild  life  and  flowers,  the  simple  folk,  and  the  ancient  memorials  of  the  loveliest 
of  the  counties  of  southwestern  England.  The  author  pleads  for  a  right  love  oi 
God's  beautiful  world."  _  j.^^  /r^«^y  Intelligencer. 

"  The  book  is  all  atmosphere,  all  color  and  scent  and  sound." 

—  The  Evening  Star,  Washington. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


KNOCK  AT  A  VENTURE 


BY   EDEN   PHILLPOTTS 

Author  of  "  The  Secret  IVoman"  etc.,  etc. 


Cloth  i2mo  $1.50 


"  Knock  at  a  Venture  "  deals  with  the  natives  of  Dart- 
moor, the  rustics  whose  rich  vitality  in  his  superb  novels 
caused  Mr,  James  Douglas,  the  London  literary  critic,  to 
pronounce  them  "the  best  rustics  since  Thomas  Hardy's 
challenged  Shakespeare's."  It  is  as  if  the  reader  were 
given  the  cream  of  the  racy  humor  so  notable  as  a  relief 
to  the  tragic  note  in  some  of  his  earlier  novels.  These 
sketches  are  quite  as  redolent  of  the  soil  of  Devon,  are  as 
characteristically  full  of  the  atmosphere,  color,  scent,  and 
sound  of  Dartmoor,  as  anything  he  has  written.  But  it 
would  seem  that  in  some  respects  these  briefer  tales  show 
the  Devonshire  rustics  in  happier  episodes.  There  is 
more  of  the  sunshine,  less  of  the  clouded  sternness  of  the 
moor  in  it,  than  in  either  "  The  American  Prisoner  "  or 
"  The  Secret  Woman." 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW  YORK 


THE  SECRET  WOMAN 

By    EDEN    PHILLPOTTS 

AtTTHOR  OF  "  My  Devon  Year,"  "  Children  of  the  Mist,"  etc.,  etc. 

Cloth  i2mo  $1.50 


"  Nothing  could  be  more  tenderly  beautiful  than  the  opening  chapter  of  this,  Mr. 
Phillpotts's  strongest  story.  .  .  .  There  cannot  be  two  opinions  as  to  the  interest 
and  the  power  of  '  The  Secret  Woman."  It  is  not  only  its  author's  masterpiece, 
but  it  is  far  in  advance  of  anything  he  has  yet  written  —  and  that  is  to  give  it  higher 
praise  than  almost  any  other  comparison  with  contemporary  fiction  could  afford." 

—  The  Times'  Saturday  Review  (New  York). 

"  One  lays  down  Eden  Phillpotts's  '  The  Secret  Woman  '  with  a  conviction  that 
it  is  not  only  the  best  novel  he  has  written,  but  also  one  of  the  greatest  novels  of  the 
decade  .  .  .  close-knit,  full  of  human  nature,  throbbing  with  passion,  alive  with 
thought  and  action.  .  .  .  The  drama  maintains  its  intense  interest  through  every 
change  to  the  exciting  close."  _  y,^^  Record-Herald  (Chicago) . 

" '  The  Secret  Woman '  shows  a  delicacy,  an  understanding,  and  a  strength 
which  mark  the  author  for  the  highest  rank."  _  y^^^  AthencBum  (London). 

" '  The  Secret  Woman  '  is  a  work  of  fiction  to  be  judged  by  the  standards  of  the 
best  of  its  kind  ...  a  genuine  book  about  men  and  women  who  really  live  and  love 
and  suffer  in  its  pages.  .  .  .    To  read  it  without  absorbed  interest  is  impossible." 

—  The  Press  (Philadelphia). 

"  Sombre,  passionate,  intensely  and  poignantly  dramatic,  '  The  Secret  Woman  ' 
is  by  far  the  finest  novel  that  Mr.  Phillpotts  has  yet  given  us,  and  to  say  this  is  to 
say  a  good  deal.  We  do  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  the  last  decade  has  produced, 
so  far  as  our  knowledge  extends,  only  one  English  novel  of  equal  power  and  im- 
pressiveness."  —East  Anglian  Times  (London). 

"  A  book  of  unusual  power  and  passion  —  by  far  the  best  work  in  fiction  that 
Mr.  Phillpotts  has  put  forth  within  the  past  two  or  three  years ;  ...  its  tense  hold  on 
the  sympathy  never  relaxes ;  and  ...  all  together  the  situation  is  as  strange  as  it  is 
compelling  in  its  force,  and  it  is  handled  with  skill  and  vigor.  In  all,  this  is  a  grim 
but  forceful  romance."  _  ^-^^  ^^^^^^  ^^^^  York) . 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 


THE  AMERICAN  PRISONER 

A   Romance  of  the  West  Country 

By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

Author  of  '*My  Devon  YearJ'  "  Children  of  the  MistJ*  etc. 

With  Illustrations  by  Claude  A.  Shepperson 
Cloth         i2mo        $1.50 


"Fresh,  pure,  strong,  exciting,  with  vigorous  characters  and  with 
both  energy  and  elevation  of  style,  *  The  American  Prisoner '  will,  no 
doubt,  command  and  keep  a  high  place  among  the  novels  of  the  year." 

—  New  York  Times. 

"'The  American  Prisoner'  is  a  romance  of  the  west  of  England  — 
the  Dartmoor  country  —  in  the  troublous  times  of  181 2.  British  ships 
of  war  swept  the  seas  \  British  arms  clashed  on  the  continent  and  on 
the  borders  of  the  American  Republic,  and  the  thirty-acre  enclosure 
of  the  war  prison  on  the  Dartmoor  heath  was  populous  with  prison- 
ers. ...  It  is  a  tale  of  absorbing  interest  and  high  literary  quality, 
in  which  strong  situations  and  startling  surprises  confront  the  reader 
at  every  turn."  —  North  Atnerican,  Philadelphia. 

"  As  a  historical  picture, '  The  American  Prisoner '  can  be  recom- 
mended, and  as  a  story  it  maintains  a  lively  pace  throughout." 

—Si.  Louis  Republic. 

"This  is  not  an  ordinary  novel.  It  has  enough  length,  breadth, 
and  depth  to  satisfy  varying  tastes  of  many  readers." 

—  Worcester  Spy. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

64-66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-17w-8,'55(B3339s4)444 


PR 

Ph-iripnttR    - 
PortreGve 

Sill 
P3ii 

1906 

'°' 37,  0^2 


PR 

^177 

P8ii 

1906 


'  iH 


